


Where's your good-natured Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry?

by taelme



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Johnny is reader's older brother, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Slytherin!Reader - Freeform, gryffindor!mark, love potion business is involved but not what you think, mark Johnny and reader are not purebloods, mark is very whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taelme/pseuds/taelme
Summary: Perfect Gryffindor head boy Mark grapples with the knowledge that as much as he tries to keep you at arm’s length, he cannot help but want to pull you closer each time
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Mark Lee (NCT) & Reader, Mark Lee (NCT)/Reader, Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 1
Kudos: 61





	Where's your good-natured Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry?

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from Tumblr @/taelme
> 
> this is something a little diff from what ive put out!! bc ive always loved Hogwarts aus so I kind of wanted to try something a little different for this trope? and I decided to show their relationship a little differently from how I would typically imagine enemies-to-lovers to be but nonetheless I hope you guys enjoy it!! also I tried to be as like explanatory(?) as I could so i hope even if u’ve never watched Harry Potter before the terminology won't be hard to understand!

The first time you met Mark, you met the wide-eyed first-year who was still trying to get over the shock of running through a pillar at a train platform, the one who was simply looking for a friend.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

Your head snapped around when the train cabin doors had opened roughly, slamming against the wall. You spotted a young boy who didn’t look any older than you, standing there with his eyebrows raised, wincing slightly as he yanked his luggage into the carriage, struggling to maintain his balance while the train moved bumpily over the tracks.

Albeit confused (since you were about halfway through the train ride already, finding it strange for him to only be finding a seat now), you dismissed your suspicions, nodding at him.

“Oh...yeah sure,” you murmured, watching curiously as the boy gave you an appreciative smile, shoving his bags in the overhead compartment before taking a seat in front of you, heaving a tired sigh.

“What’s your name?” he asked you, “I’m Mark.”

You averted your gaze, unsure why you were so shy in front of him. Sure, you thought he was cute, in an awkward kind of way, but you hadn’t even reached the school yet and here you were already developing crushes on other students?

“Y/N,” you murmured, earning another smile from him.

“Wait, you know what _spongebob_ is?”

Taken aback by his sudden question, you followed where his finger pointed towards, spotting the keychain hanging from your luggage, a bubble-blowing spongebob bouncing above the both of you.

Giving him a slow nod, you dared yourself to meet his gaze, swallowing down whatever shyness you had in you, “you know it too?”

Strangely, he seemed almost afraid to agree with you, averting his gaze as one of his hands went up to the back of his neck, tilting his head as if he was hesitant to speak.

You were sure that people in the wizarding world weren’t very well versed on human (muggle) tv shows, trying to find the term in your head so you could tell Mark, in case his silence was because he hadn't been able to find the right term either.

You recalled hearing your brother Johnny mentioning it when your parents had asked about what house you could possibly have been sorted into.

“Are you a muggle-born?” you asked with a smile, proud at your first-year self that was properly using the terms Johnny had taught you.

Mark’s gaze shot up to meet yours almost instantly, a part of him waiting for you to react like those in the other cabin, calling him _impure_ , _undeserving_ of his invitation to Hogwarts.

Nodding slowly, Mark scrunched his eyes shut, preparing himself for another look of disgust or discomfort, not expecting your response.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of...I’m one too, and my brother, he’s a third-year,” you told him, watching his eyes widen in disbelief, his hands shifting to grip at the hem of his sweater.

He didn’t have any siblings to rely on, rendering him rather alone in this new environment. Hence, his surprise that he’d been lucky enough to chance upon your cabin. Mark’s eyes wandered back to the keychain, thinking out loud before he could stop himself.

“I should’ve brought something like that too, my mom didn’t want me to bring too many muggle things along with me,” he smiled half-heartedly, pursing his lips.

“Here, do you want it? You can have it,” you were already climbing on your knees on the cushioned seat, reaching up to detach the keychain from your bag, holding it out to him as though it were a peace offering.

Or like how a parent would offer a child a sweet to stop them from crying. Except this time the sweet was one of your favourite keychains that you were now impulsively offering to your new friend.

“Really?” you watched as a hint of a smile played at his lips, “thanks.”

He accepted the keychain from you wordlessly, his gaze flickering between the keychain to you, “you seem really nice...” he murmured, his hand leaving his sweater almost reluctantly to fidget with his ear.

You smiled at him, genuinely this time, not being able to wait to tell Johnny about the new friend you’d made in the train (and hoping he wouldn’t ask you about the disappearance of your keychain).

“I hope we get sorted into the same house,” you told him.

Mark looked away, a small smile on his lips as he brought his other hand up to cover his mouth, resting his elbow on the windowsill and nodding at you.

“Me too,” he mumbled through a smile.

Trust you, it wasn’t as if you were very knowledgeable about this sorting hat business, especially after you’d taken your seat on the chair, your eyes gleaming with excitement as you waited for the sorting hat to put you in _Gryffindor_ house so you could run along over to where your older brother Johnny was seated with his third-year friends. Not to mention your new friend Mark, who had taken his seat at the Gryffindor table just before you.

Gryffindors were known to be _daring, courageous, chivalrous_ , and _brave._ You wondered if that same boy you met on the train was capable of displaying such traits that seemed so different from his reserved demeanour.

But the sorting hat seemed to have different plans in mind for you. You heard the hat bellow a loud ‘ _Slytherin!_ ’ into the hall, your heart sinking as you reluctantly made your way over to the table to be seated. Johnny was calm, giving you a reassuring nod, having predicted with your parents that you would likely be sorted into that house.

Mark’s heart sank. Watching with mixed feelings as you made your way towards the table where the other students who had insulted him on the train had taken their seats, he was unsettled by the feeling in his gut telling him this wasn’t _right_.

Thankfully for you, a certain mischievous third-year Slytherin by the name of Yuta had been seated across you, tilting his head at you with a smile, leaning closer and dropping his voice to a whisper so the other students wouldn’t hear.

“Hey, Johnny’s your brother, right?”

You nodded slowly, flinching back when Yuta had extended a hand abruptly for you to shake.

“I’m Yuta. Stick with me and I’ll show you the ropes around here,” he told you, quirking his eyebrows ever so slightly in his _rather rehearsed_ proposal. Taking his hand slowly to shake, you made your first friend in your house.

_He was Johnny’s friend, wasn’t he? How bad could it get?_

Unbeknownst to you, Johnny and Yuta had sensed your magical proficiency from a very early stage, and with the both of their prior knowledge on how having a muggle-born sorted into a house where it was still hard to shake traditional notions on the importance of _blood purity_ , they knew you would have your fair share of struggles with your fellow students in your house.

So, they’d made it a point to study with you. Which, in other words, meant Johnny and Yuta sneaking off with you to abandoned parts of the castle where they would casually ‘practice’ their spells in front of you in the hopes that you would imitate them (which you always tried to). And surely enough, you found after accompanying them for a few months, you had managed to compile a fair repertoire of charms under your belt.

_It was for your protection_ , Johnny would always insist when his senior Taeil found out that he had been teaching you the _sixth-year level_ spells, the _Ravenclaw_ boy insisting that it was ridiculous for him to expect you to master spells of such calibre when you were only a first-year. But, well, you obviously didn’t know that.

Of course you would share your newfound knowledge with Mark whenever the both of you had classes together, and you were glad that you’d chosen him (or he’d chosen you, it went both ways, really) to be your friend. He was very much a reminder to you that you didn’t have to navigate in this environment on your own.

Sure you had Johnny and Yuta, but Mark was at the same stage of life as you, it was _different_.

The two of you would spend your free time at the viaduct, enjoying the large expanse of the bridge overlooking the lake that you’d discovered together. Over there, you would spend your free time between lessons or on the weekends to talk about things you liked, about home, even about stupid things like missing _pizza rolls_. Your first-year self grew to like the place very much, how it started to remind you of the comfort of home, the comfort of your new friend, Mark.

But for Mark, things went a little differently, having heard passing comments about you being a ‘ _mudblood_ ’ , and how it wasn’t surprising that you were associating with him, you know, the stupid quotes about birds flocking together because of their feathers. _Whatever_ , Mark couldn’t be bothered to remember it. But the more he heard it, the more he wondered if it was better to keep you at arm’s length.

It was one particular incident in the boys bathroom that had put him in his place. How the same boys he’d encountered on the train had stopped him before he could leave.

“Look, it’s our _favourite_ _mudblood_ ,” they’d made their presence known, quite literally, with the way they’d blocked out Mark’s exit from the washroom.

Mark found the whole ordeal quite silly, that people in this day and age still cared about blood purity, but in cases like these, he knew better than to assume they weren’t brought up with these ideals. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t hurt by their words either, it’d already taken way too much persuasion from his mom to let their words ‘ _pass by_ ’ him, like she always said.

“You really disgust me, you know that?” one of them spat, “how do you even do magic? Who’d you steal it from?” they prodded, shoving Mark harshly against the wall of the washroom, one of them grabbing Mark by the collar, almost making him feel more lightheaded than he already was from how tight his tie was.

“I didn’t,” Mark grunted, “ _steal_ it from anyone.”

“Huh,” the one that held him by the collar had huffed, “for some reason, I don’t believe you. Maybe we should ask Y/N,”

Mark’s eyes widened, shaking his head, “why does Y/N have to get involved? She didn’t do anything.”

“Wake up, Mark. You think she’s really your friend?” the boy sneered, “you’ve got to learn how to differentiate friendship and _pity_.”

After this, when Mark had started to grow busier after his teacher had signed him up for the Gryffindor quidditch team, he’d _let_ himself be busy. Bit by bit, he would surround himself with his own friends, as if it was some sort of agreement that this was just how things were supposed to be.

It was a miracle in itself for him to make any move to even look at you, much less make a move to talk to you, afraid that if he did he’d be attracting unwanted attention from the people in your house.

He figured this means of looking out for you would be for the best. You would be happy without getting involved with him, he would tell himself from then on, that you were ‘ _making your real friends_ ’ there, as the sorting hat had mentioned since day 1.

You were popular among the people in your house, they liked you, your drive, your way of speaking. _There probably wasn’t room for people like him in your life anyway._

===

The next time you’d met him, you’d met the freshly-appointed third-year _prefect_ Mark (yes, you read that right, he was such perfect, rule-abiding, teacher’s pet material that they’d appointed a _third-year_ to be prefect), who would stop at nothing to prove that he wasn’t weak like people thought he was.

“Alright, class, just to get a sense of where you lot are at now, how about we have a duel? A few of you are in the duelling club, am I right?” your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had proposed, Professor Park, a relatively young teacher that had just taken over the position as DADA professor when you’d enrolled.

His gaze searched the crowd of students that would rather _die_ than meet his eyes, eventually seeming to have deemed you and Mark to be sufficient for the duel.

“Can someone else do it instead?” you pleaded with your teacher, not comfortable in situations that required you to duel, much preferring the confines of your own desk where you were free to practice your charms without risking hurting anyone, especially not Mark. And Mark knew this.

Your professor was insistent, however, coming behind you to push you up onto a platform that Mark was already standing on, the rest of the students in your class gathered round as though it were some sort of wrestling match (which you supposed it was similar to).

“C’mon, now, show us some good-natured _Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry_ , ” your professor guffawed, making you let out a frustrated sigh as you straightened out your robes, readying yourself as he queued the start of the duel.

It was fairly simple at first. Mark seemed to have been going easy on you as he cast mindless spells that were making no such effort to hit you. You figured the both of you weren’t going to take this too seriously since it was just for your professor to see you apply whatever spells you’d learnt so far.

Well, that was until a few bored-looking Slytherin students (that Mark was _very_ much familiar with) had spoken up.

“C’mon, _mudblood_ , is that all you got?” they taunted towards Mark, soft enough that your professor wouldn’t hear.

And you noticed how Mark’s gaze had almost immediately hardened, his grip on his wand tightening as his spells seemed to have gotten more intentional.

You’d missed the way Mark had glanced at them, one of them looking at him almost challengingly.

You weren’t sure what the term meant, frowning at what it could’ve implied since it warranted such a reaction from Mark. _Mudblood_. The term itself sounded disgusting, even.

Mark wasn’t sure what came over him, the desire to prove himself, or the desire to end the duel, he wasn’t sure. He knew that he wanted to make sure there was no reason for those students to pursue you, yet at the time, he wasn’t sure about the lengths he would go to prove that.

All he was aware of was that he’d just cast a disarming spell that was powerful enough to send you flying backwards, landing on your back with a loud grunt. He’d surprised you further when he’d sent a bout of fire directed your way before you had even fully straightened up, making you flinch back, extinguishing the small flame gotten caught at the end of your robe, giving him a scandalized look.

The students broke out into hushed whispers, all eagerly anticipating your next move as Mark made no move to stop directing spells at you, the next swish-and-flick of his wand causing

your feet to lift off of the ground, making you wonder just how much power he’d put into casting that spell.

Wracking your brain for spells out of your sheer anger that he would’ve directed the fire towards your _face_ , you recalled a particular silencing charm Yuta had shown you before, and before you knew it, you were expelling his wand from his hand and casting the silencing charm on him.

You hadn’t expected it to work, but you figured it did from the way Mark’s hand had flown to grasp his throat, frowning at the lack of sound coming from his mouth.

Mark’s eyes widened, and so did your professor’s, dumbfounded that you’d just easily cast a spell that even his sixth-years were _struggling_ to perform successfully, deciding that that had been enough duelling for the day.

“Okay, class, enough, you’re all dismissed. Y/N and Mark, please stay behind,” you watched as your classmates had slowly dispersed out of the classroom, not without shooting you brief glances and fearfully looking away when you’d returned them.

You huffed at the sight of your professor cooing over Mark. You’d taken a blow to your back right in front of him and yet all he cared about was making sure his _precious_ Gryffindor prefect was alright.

“Don’t worry, kid, the spell will wear off soon. Do you have a class after this?” you had eavesdropped from where you were packing up your things, a part of you still feeling hurt trying to digest the fact that Mark had been so competitive to the point of disregarding your feelings, just for the sake of winning the duel.

_Maybe Mark should’ve been sorted into Slytherin instead._

The green in your robes taunted Mark, almost, as you made your way to where he was standing next to your professor, waiting for him to be done drafting the note to excuse his lack of voice for his next lesson (which was _Charms_ , quite unfortunately).

“Y/N, can I just ask where you’d learnt such spells? I mean, no third-year I know is _that_ proficient in casting spells that are of a sixth-year’s standard.”

You ignored the way Mark’s gaze on you had hardened, turning into an almost-glare, simply keeping your gaze fixed on your professor as you shrugged.

“I don’t know, just... overheard it I guess. I didn’t think it’d _actually_ work,” you explained, folding your arms “can I go now? I’m late for my next class.”

Mark scoffed, making a decision in his head. He was no longer going to let himself get swayed by you, you were in Slytherin for a reason, he figured, _and it was best not to forget that_. Today was enough evidence for him.

Choosing that time to leave the class, Mark made his exit known with his angry stomping, which grew softer as he got further, making you glance back impatiently to see your professor narrow his eyes at you.

“Yeah, just... _be careful_ when you use that spell next time, which I hope you won’t find a need for,” he told you, dismissing you with a wave.

You’d tried to forget your little run-in with Mark, but by dinner, you’d been confronted by both Yuta and Johnny who were _much too eager_ to know the details of your little duel.

“Spill,” you heard a small thud of Yuta’s forearm against the table as he sat next to you, ignoring the annoyed looks he’d warranted from the other Slytherin students (who upon realising who he was, had immediately made a space for him to sit), Johnny leaning on the wall behind you with an expectant look on his face as well.

“Spill what?” you huffed, turning around in your seat to press your shoes against the wall next to where Johnny was leaning, Yuta giving you a knowing smirk at you in response.

“We heard from Professor Park, you know,” Yuta made to swish an imaginary wand in front of you, “ _silencio_? Ring a bell?” Yuta deadpanned, reminding you of the silencing charm, earning a snort from Johnny.

“Taeil’s gonna _kill_ me if he finds out I taught you the spell,” he grimaced, making Yuta wave him off.

“Yeah, right, as if you wouldn’t love another excuse to get one-on-one time with Taeil,” Yuta shot back, his gaze still filled with concern as he examined your expression.

“Who was it? I heard it was a Gryffindor,” Johnny changed the subject quickly, his gaze scanning the Gryffindor table at the other end of the hall, trying to see if he recognized any third-year faces, the only one being his roommate Mark, _but Mark would never do that, right?_

“If you’re _that_ curious, it’s Mark Lee,” you told him with an eye-roll, “you know, your precious prefect.”

Johnny’s eyes widened, falling silent almost immediately, whereas Yuta simply hummed in feigned understanding, trying to place a face to the name.

Johnny glanced over at Yuta’s expression, contributing a, “Gryffindor’s chaser.” Only then earning a look of stark realisation from Yuta.

“Aren’t you two friends?” Yuta asked, having recalled stories you told him in your first year about how Mark was the first friend you made coming to Hogwarts.

You shrugged, “I mean, we _were_ , ” you stopped yourself, tilting your head as you stared at your hands as if they could give you the words you were looking for, “I don’t quite know. Friends don’t act like he did. I mean, I get it, it was a duel and whatever, but...” you trailed off, not wishing to get into how you felt in the middle of the great hall where literally every other student was happily dining.

Yuta sensed your discomfort, giving Johnny a nod, “you deal with Mark, I’ll handle it here.”

Johnny pushed aside his hesitance, trusting Yuta to have your best intentions in mind (the boy cared for you as if you were his own younger sister), choosing to set his mind on observing the boy who tried to t torch his sister.

“I remember something,” you murmured after Johnny had left, Yuta looking at you with gentle concern, prompting you to continue,

“Some people called him a _mudblood_? And then he got mad and he started getting really competitive,” you offered, unsure why Yuta’s expression had turned almost grim.

“Lesson of the day, that term, is a _disgusting_ term. If anyone _ever_ calls you that you better let me know,” he held a finger up, pointing it for emphasis, “I don’t _ever_ wanna hear you say it ever again. From now on, you use the proper term, which is a ‘ _well deserving wizard_ ’,” he grinned.

You frowned, “would you at least tell me what it means?” Yuta was about to get up, turning to you with a sigh.

“It’s like how it’s spelled,” he told you, “dirty blood. People used to use it a lot in the past towards people with non-magic possessing parents, or half-bloods, like you and Johnny. But it’s bad, it’s really...bad,” Yuta inhaled deeply, practically being able to imagine all your thoughts swirling in your head.

Yuta turned to you with a frown, his expression breaking into a cheeky grin, “How about this, Taeil gave us a spell to get around the whole no-electricity thing, so...” he quirked an eyebrow at you with a small smile, “how does a round of _mario kart_ in the common room sound?”

===

“What are you doing here?”

Your head snapped around just as you’d entered _The Three Broomsticks_ , the cosy pub down the line of shops in _Hogsmeade_ , not having expected to come face to face with Johnny and his Hufflepuff friend Taeyong, who gave you a slight nod of the head in greeting.

You narrowed your eyes at him, raising up your bag containing your purchases from the quill shop, having run out of parchment after Yuta had _‘borrowed’_ some for what you assumed was writing more love letters to the sixth-year Gryffindor Sicheng.

“What are _you_ doing here?” you narrowed your eyes at him, seeing him glance at the far end of the pub cautiously, making you frown, wanting to follow his gaze but you not being able to find what he was looking at.

“Oh, you know... just, post-quidditch practice drinks.”

Taeyong stifled a chortle, “yeah...cause Taeil _totally_ plays quidditch.”

You scoffed, “don’t you have to study for your exams?”

You heard Taeyong practically deflate in a sigh next to you, no longer looking as amused as he nodded gravely, “yes, he does.”

Johnny shrugged, “join us? I’ll pay if you promise not to tell mom I was here,” he bargained, earning a shrug from you, nodding.

However, what Johnny had failed to mention was that by ‘us’ he had meant Taeil and Mark.

Your fight-or-flight instincts immediately kicked in when you spotted Mark seated there with his tie loosened underneath his sweater, his hair messy and his round glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

You shot a menacing glare at Johnny, about to pursue an argument with him but having been shut down quickly by Taeyong, who made you take a seat next to him, letting Johnny sit further from you so he could be next to Taeil.

“Hey! I was just talking about how much I missed you,” Taeil’s eyes lit up when he saw you, making you sigh deeply, giving in to Taeil’s welcoming smile as you pulled your glass closer to yourself, the warmth of your glass against your hand similar to his aura.

“Missed you too,” you frowned.

Mark had wanted to roll his eyes, annoyed at the way you’d seemed to be acting as if he wasn’t even there, your gaze skipping past him and greeting only Taeil.

_Was there anything in the books that mentioned Slytherins being arrogant as well?_

Johnny scoffed, “what about me? You never tell _me_ you miss me,” he gave Taeil a pout, earning a grimace from you, watching as Taeil’s cheeks tinted pink, a small smile on his face while peeling Johnny’s hand away gingerly from his waist.

“How’s school been? Not still _hexing_ anyone, I hope,” Taeil chuckled, earning a snort from Mark, whose gaze was fixed on his drink, his leg bouncing absently.

You furrowed your eyebrows, poking your tongue in your cheek as you turned your gaze towards him, oblivious to the looks of distress Taeyong was casting towards Johnny.

“Well I could now, if _someone_ isn’t careful,” you smiled sweetly at Mark, the boy simply raising an eyebrow at you as if in a challenge. You ignored the passing comment from Taeyong that ‘ _someone’s been spending too much time with Yuta_ ’.

Mark didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed, giving you a nonchalant shrug.  
“Be my guest. That’d be about like what...45 points from your house, at least, right?”

You inhaled deeply, choosing to drop the topic as you directed your attention back to Taeil, your grip on your glass hard enough to make your knuckles turn white.

You would be quiet today, _for Yuta’s sake_. He’d kill you if you botched his chances of winning the house cup just because of your beef with Mark.

Today, it seemed, you were meeting the fifth-year Mark that was _aloof_ , that was _daring_ (sometimes teetering on the brink of recklessness), that was _evidently_ unafraid of you.

“How’s applying for the teaching position coming along?” you asked Taeil, smirking at the way Johnny’s eyes had widened along with Taeil’s.

“Oh? How did you know about that?” Taeil tilted his head at you.

You shrugged, “heard it from Joh-” you winced at the pain that had shot up your shin, making you sputter out into a cough, casting a glare at Johnny before you continued, “a _little_ bird. A little bird told me.”

Taeil chuckled, shaking his head at Johnny, “trust you to keep things a secret,” he told him, though there was no menace in his tone whatsoever, not being able to find it in himself to be mad at Johnny.

“It’s going great, actually, to answer your question. They said they’d give me the position as Charms professor,” Taeil told you, earning an impressed hum from Taeyong, who seemed to only be finding this out now as well (or maybe he was just a better liar than you, you couldn’t tell).

“Will you guys be taking that for your subjects this year?” Taeil directed the question at both you and Mark, making you curse inwardly when the both of you had nodded.

_What a shame_ , yet another year of witnessing Mark flaunting his apparent proficiency at non-verbal spells, something that hadn’t even been taught in the curriculum yet.

Taeil smiled, resting his folded arms on the table, his efforts to peel Johnny’s hands off of him long-forgotten now as Johnny rested a hand on Taeil’s shoulder comfortably.

“Well, that’s great, then! I’ll probably be teaching the both of you this year,” he smiled.

(Of course, what Mark would never tell you was that he’d only practiced so hard to make sure he was good at charms after you duelled him, not wanting to let himself be at a disadvantage without his voice in the future)

“I heard you’re really good at charms,” Taeyong commented, making you shrug, an unsure laugh leaving you.

“Not really. I much prefer _Transfiguration_ or like... _Potions_ , ” you admitted, knowing that Mark was _definitely_ better than you at charms after his drastic improvement over the years.

Taeyong and Taeil couldn’t help themselves from giggling, exchanging a look as Taeyong explained, “nah, we’re laughing because those happen to be Johnny’s worst subjects.”

You let out a huff of laughter, nodding in agreement, but not missing the way Mark had huffed next to you.

“Yeah, it’s a wonder how two siblings could be _so_ _different_.”  
Your eyebrows knit into a frown, your mood shifting instantly at his comment, taking a long

gulp of your drink and leaving just a mere sip of it remaining, letting out a controlled sigh. “I didn’t come here to listen to your childish comments, you know,” you muttered.

Taeyong jumped in immediately, eager to maintain the _no-hex_ status of the meeting, “hey, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure Mark didn’t mean any harm—”

Mark’s eyebrows knit into a frown, turning to scoff at you.  
“ _Childish_? What, you think you’re all high-and-mighty now? You wouldn’t even look at me—”

“ _High and mighty_? ” you scoffed, “have you _seen_ yourself? Ever since you got sorted into Gryffindor it’s like you became a different person. Being a prefect doesn’t change anything, you know. Face it, Mark, you’re no different from the rest of us.”

Mark’s fist clenched around his wand, shoving it further down in his robe as if to remind himself that the last thing he wanted right now was to use it against you.

You made him uncomfortable. Uncomfortable at the fact that he’d changed, that he’d let his personal vendetta against _all things Slytherin_ get the better of him.

“Y/N, calm down,” Johnny told you, his tone a desperate attempt at gaining back control over the situation, at a loss as Taeil and Taeyong watched the scene play out in awe, somehow being able to sense that there was _a lot_ more to unpack behind what you two were throwing at each other.

Also because Johnny may have felt like it was kind of his fault for bringing you and Mark together here.

Though just because Mark wasn’t physically retaliating, that didn’t mean his sharp-tongue wouldn’t, his words leaving him before he could stop himself.

His voice dropped to a bare murmur, “and you’re no different from the Slytherin scum—” 

“Shut up, Mark,” Johnny cut in, frowning deeply.

Johnny knew his words struck a nerve with you from the tell-tale way your hands shook as you withdrew them from your glass, not to mention the way you’d taken your lower lip between your teeth, blinking rapidly, the sight almost enough to bring back Johnny’s memories of the first time you’d almost injured him when you practiced your magic at home.

You let out a huff, nodding slowly as you got up from your seat, your vision blurring as your eyes welled up with tears.

“Thanks for the drink,” you tried your best to keep your voice stable, averting your gaze from Johnny and taking your leave.

Johnny glared at Mark, the sound of the door bells jingling loudly in the background, “not cool, man.”

Mark had cowered instantly, feeling as though he were being chided by his parents with the way Johnny looked at him, especially because of how Taeil had started to rub soothing circles onto the back of Johnny’s hand.

Taeyong huffed, “I’m gonna go get Yuta...” casting Mark a look of sympathy before leaving, leaving just Mark, Taeil and an eerily calm Johnny at the table.

“Look, dude, I know you’re my friend and all, but...that was a low blow,” Johnny gaze looked almost defeated, wracking his brain for ways to save the situation.

Taeil gave Johnny a look of almost-pity, “Youngho, he’s a kid, he doesn’t understand.” Johnny shook his head, hating the way he’d softened at the sound of Taeil calling his name,

casting one last glare at Mark, “oh, he understands _very_ well, believe me,” he sighed. “Whatever it is you two have going on, I hope you settle it quickly. Or you’ll wish she was your only enemy.”

===

It had seemed that after that, Mark had figured the lesser contact he would have with you, the better. Johnny had eventually taken pity on him after that incident at _The Three Broomsticks_ in your fifth-year, since Mark was an absolute guilt-stricken wreck afterwards when Johnny had told him how upset you were after being sorted into Slytherin. Johnny had also gained a little more insight that night about why you guys had started being so cold to each other in the first place.

Hoping that that would’ve been the beginning of the end of whatever rivalry you had between you and Mark, Johnny was more than disappointed when he realised it had only made Mark withdraw from you even more.

Mark’s reasoning was that he didn’t want to hurt you out of spite, lest Johnny beat him up for it (or at least, that was the excuse Mark gave himself). Resulting in Johnny having to deal with the constant frustration of witnessing Mark cast furtive glances in yours and Yuta’s direction in the great hall every day, the fact that the Slytherin table was on the complete other end of the hall doing nothing to deter him (or maybe, it was actually doing everything to deter him).

You were currently watching a Quidditch match of Gryffindor against Hufflepuff, knowing that it was more than likely that Gryffindor would win and be put against Slytherin for the final match, Gryffindor’s players being considerably stronger.

With Yuta beside you and the fifth-year you’d taken next under your wing named Donghyuck on your other side, you watched intently from where you sat at the back of the stands, Yuta busily counting the money you’d gathered from taking bets for the game.

“Listen closely, hyuck,” Yuta beckoned the fifth year over, “they don’t teach you this shit in the real wizarding world.”

Donghyuck gave him a questioning stare but entertained Yuta anyway.

“Is that why you stayed back an extra year in school?” Donghyuck snickered, earning a glare from Yuta.

You couldn’t help but snicker as well, almost losing sight of Taeyong, the seeker for the Hufflepuff team, who had been chasing the tiny golden snitch for what seemed like ages now, desperately looking for that 150 point advantage.

Yuta scoffed, waving the money in his hands, handing it over to Donghyuck unceremoniously as he showed him the book where they kept the records of everyone that had placed bets.

“I’ll have you know, I stayed for the sake of quidditch.”

You pressed your lips together, leaning back against the wooden panels of the stand, folding your arms in front of you as you nudged your glasses higher on your nose bridge.

“Uh-huh, you and my brother,” your tone was patronising.

“Taeyong too, we made a pact. In case you forgot,” Yuta paused his explanation to Donghyuck to inform you with a satisfied smile.

You’d startled at the way the crowd erupted in anxious shouts when Johnny had managed to beat a _bludger_ towards the Hufflepuff chaser, who avoided the tough ball by mere seconds. You couldn’t imagine what a nasty bruise would show if you’d ever gotten hit by one.

Donghyuck hummed when the Gryffindor crowd had echoed bellowing cheers upon the ding indicating another goal had been scored by the chaser.

“Gryffindor’s chaser isn’t that bad,” he commented. Which in Donghyuck’s terms, meant that Gryffindor’s chaser was _amazing._

Yuta’s gaze had flickered to you quickly, as if to gauge your reaction, smirking at the way you’d simply shrugged.

“Slytherin’s is better.”

Donghyuck scoffed, his hand going up to adjust the scarf around his neck that you’d loaned to him, since his had been ruined in an accidental fire casting spell incident a month prior. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Please, Doyoung has _nothing_ on Mark,” Yuta snickered, seeming to share Donghyuck’s sentiments, making you shrug.

“Doyoung has his own... _strengths_ , ” you directed your attention back to the game, watching as Mark had scored yet another goal, putting Gryffindor at an almost 130 point advantage.

_Who were you kidding,_ _Mark was definitely a better player than Doyoung_. Doyoung wouldn’t have even joined the team if not for his unfortunately high score in his first-year flying classes.

You know that the point advantage meant that it was a clear win for Gryffindor if their new seeker Jeongin managed to catch the snitch.

And by the looks of it, he was almost there.

After catching a bludger to his broom, Taeyong had spun out of control, losing sight of the snitch, allowing Jeongin to have a clear advantage, already inching closer to the snitch.

Resigning to the fact that the match’s outcome was rather clearly decided, you turned your attention back to Yuta, nudging him to start preparing the money for the winners of the bets.

“Damn. I mean, I get it, Hufflepuff isn’t the worst but still, the amount of faith these people had to have bet on them is crazy,” Donghyuck murmured, awe laced in his tone as he helped Yuta to arrange the money.

And as usual, you’d adjourned to the bottom of the stands, allowing the students to approach the group of you discreetly while they were heading back to the castle. You’d developed this system overtime, thanks to Yuta’s idle mind in divination lessons, to carry out this plan smoothly. The only bump in your road you would say, was...well, _Mark_.

You were already tired of standing for so long, and Yuta was (thankfully) almost done distributing all the winning amounts to the students when you’d heard rowdy cheering get louder, Johnny’s distinctive yell letting you know that the Gryffindor team was heading out.

Turning quickly, you’d ushered the last of the students away, shoving Yuta’s book into your coat, Yuta’s gaze flickering behind you as you heard Johnny’s voice followed by high-pitched giggles from Mark.

Donghyuck hummed, his gaze following Mark (his laughter had died down quickly) who eyed you blankly, yet making no move to greet you.

“What are you guys doing here?” the prefect in Mark was showcasing itself, knowing better than to think the three of you would linger here for any ‘normal’ reason.

Yuta simply smiled, stepping closer and blocking you from Mark’s line of sight.

“Waiting for you, of course. Wanted to congratulate our _favourite_ Gryffindor chaser,” he drawled, sarcasm practically dripping from his tone and managing to unnerve Mark.

Mark was annoyed, of course (knowing that you and Yuta were _never_ the type to listen to him, and now that Donghyuck was in the mix it didn’t make things any easier), choosing to direct his annoyed glare towards Yuta.

“Cut to the chase, I don’t know what kind of illegal shit you guys are running here-”

“ _Mark_ , chill, it’s a game day. Just let us have our fun, hmm?” Yuta hummed, slinging an arm around your shoulder casually, making you roll your eyes.

“He _can’t_ , ” you supplied, “It’s literally his job to make sure we don’t ‘ _have our fun_ ’ ,” you huffed, reminding Yuta of Mark’s status as a prefect, and perhaps reminding yourself as well.

Ignoring the way Mark’s stare had fixated on you, though his expression was unreadable, you decided not to take his demeanour to heart.

Today, it seemed that you were just meeting the sixth-year popular version of Mark that looked at you with contempt, only viewing you as a means to increase the house point gap between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Huffing, you stepped forward, deeming the conversation to be over. Shivering at the gust of cold wind that had brushed past you, Yuta was quick to notice your discomfort, wordlessly reaching over to remove your scarf from Donghyuck’s neck, ignoring the younger boy’s sounds of protest as he wrapped it around yours.

Unaware of the way Mark’s gaze was practically burning into Yuta’s back, you huffed at the sound of the boisterous laughter echoing behind you, making you more eager to get away from the Gryffindor team in their celebratory mood, waving their win around as if it was their birth right.

“Where are you going after this? Do you wanna join me and Sicheng for drinks at _Hogsmeade_? ” Yuta asked, gaining Donghyuck’s attention.

Mark tried not to eavesdrop too much on your conversation, though eavesdropping in itself was already made difficult with how loud the team was being.

“Can I come?” he heard Donghyuck speak up. And maybe it was the feeling of someone else’s stare on them but Donghyuck had turned to look at Mark in question, making Mark avert his gaze quickly, pretending to be fascinated with the cloud cover in the sky.

You let out a surprised hum, “he finally agreed?”

Yuta shut Donghyuck down quickly, casting you an unamused look, “yes, he agreed. So, are you coming or not?”

“And spend my evening third-wheeling? No, thanks. I’m gonna try to get some studying done.” You were already nearing the path that would split the both of you.

Yuta groaned, seemingly with his entire body just to prove how frustrated he was with the information, “it _pains_ me how boring you are sometimes. Guess I’ll have to bring _this_ _one_ with me, then.”

Donghyuck scoffed, “I don’t need you to _bring_ me.” The stark contrast to his previous eager request to follow Yuta making you laugh.

You rolled your eyes, a smile finding its way on your face not long after, “whatever, I’ll see you later. Have fun with Sicheng,” you sing-songed.

Later on, you were busy trying to get back to the common room before curfew, since you knew now was about the time where the prefects like Mark would be lurking around the campus, eager to catch students like you who had _no sense of time management whatsoever_.

You’d done a quick cloaking spell on yourself, keeping your footsteps light as you got closer to the Gryffindor common room, startling when you’d heard a thud against the painting of the fat lady that guarded Gryffindor’s common room. Turning around to spot a _very_ _tipsy_ Mark who was struggling to get into his own dorm.

_The perfect-prefect-extraordinaire actually knew how to let loose?_

You stopped in your tracks, observing Mark curiously as he let out a giggle and whined at the fat lady to let him in.

“C’mon, you _know_ me! I’m a prefect!” he insisted, his hand coming up to find his badge but coming in contact with just the fabric of his shirt instead, confusing him further. The very fact that he was still dressed in his uniform made you wonder just how long the Gryffindor team had been celebrating to render someone as usually responsible as him in _this_ state.

“Okay, okay, I got it. I got it,” he cleared his throat, clapping his hands together in realisation, “ _fimblewimble_ , ” he murmured to the painting, his hands gripping on the frame desperately, earning a huff from the fat lady, who simply looked at him in disbelief.

Taking pity on him, you’d made your way closer to him, murmuring the password you remembered Johnny telling you in case of _‘emergencies’_.

“ _Acid pops_ , ” you did your best to refrain from laughing at the way his eyebrows furrowed with how seriously he was taking this.

Mark wondered what kind of sick joke his mind was playing on him, if the voice of reason in his head was beginning to sound just like you.

Not that he didn’t like the sound of your voice, of course, he just figured it would definitely make it harder for him to keep hating you if your voice was _quite literally_ a all he could think of.

The tipsy side of him briefly wondered if you were the angel or the devil on his shoulder.

His head whipped around in shock, pupils blown and cheeks and the tip of his nose dusted with pink, his gaze skimming right past you as he scanned the area around him, the flickering flame of the lamp above him being the only thing that he deemed to be moving in the area.

“Y/N?” he murmured, frowning when he hadn’t seen anyone.

And in that moment, you were very grateful for magical cloaking spells, not knowing what you would’ve done if he had seen you standing right behind him.

“...weird,” he huffed, rubbing his chest with a small groan, turning back to face the fat lady with a lazy smile, “ _acid pops!_ ” he drawled, more confidently this time. His smile only grew when he heard the fat lady huff, granting him entry into the common room.

“Thanks, imaginary Y/N,” he huffed, stumbling into the room and leaving you flushed and at a loss for words.

“I think I'm crazy,” Mark would later confess to his roommate Johnny in a drunken stupor, giggling wildly as he tried to say more words in his head, looking to see if he would hear your voice saying them.

Johnny himself was busy laying on their bedroom floor with a tired smile on his face as he clung to his stuffed animal, snuggling his face deeper into the soft toy. The sight would’ve been quite endearing to Mark if he was sober enough to notice.

“Why? I mean, I think so too, but I still wanna know why,” Johnny huffed, letting his eyes flutter closed, too tired to open them.

“Just now, I was trying to get Y/N- I mean, no, I was trying to get into the common room, but then I forgot the password and I was like,” Mark paused, trying to recall how the events had played out, his delay making Johnny open his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Shut up, Mark...” Johnny slurred, “...too many words. Wait, did you say Y/N?”

Mark nodded, “yeah. Okay, wait, I wasn’t finished. So, I couldn’t remember the password, right? And then all of a sudden I just _hear her voice_ ,” he cast Johnny a wide-eyed look even though he knew Johnny wasn’t looking at him, “and it’s her voice telling me the password, isn’t that crazy?”

Johnny perked up almost immediately, the sound of perfect blackmail material allowing him to regain his senses just slightly.

“Not _that_ crazy if you asked me,” Johnny said matter-of-factly, making Mark frown, annoyance taking over his features.

“What makes you say that?”

Johnny shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe it really _was_ her,” he stopped to let out a giggle, as if he’d recalled a funny memory, “I used to think I heard Taeil’s voice too back when he was still a student, still do sometimes, actually,” he trailed off.

“Are you making fun of me?” Mark whined, earning a giggle from Johnny.

“I’m not,” Johnny sighed, calming down from his laughter, “or am I?” he burst into another fit of giggles, seemingly satisfied with himself.

“No, dude you don’t get it-” Mark stopped himself, a long pause ensuing. _Maybe he was the one that didn’t get it._

Mark couldn’t help the belated giggle that escaped him, “dude, I think we drank too much...never mind, goodnight,” he told Johnny, though it seemed the snoring boy next to him had already beat him to it.

===

It seemed as though you were running into Mark a lot more in the days after that Quidditch match, especially ever since Taeil became your Charms teacher and decided it was a _splendid_ idea to put you and Mark on the same bench.

Obviously this led to more eye-rolls and bickering in class, with you performing the new Charms with an apparent ease, whereas he continued to fumble turning his stupid vinegar into anything that even closely resembled wine.

This was all, of course, very amusing to Taeil, whenever he caught Mark’s harsh looks cast towards you when Taeil would choose you for demonstrations, and vice versa when Taeil would ask Mark to demonstrate an example of a non-verbal spell. To this, Taeil would never miss an opportunity to mention to the both of you that ‘ _peer tutoring is still an option, you know_ ’.

Of course, you would refuse this ( _to the death_ , Taeil would like to point out), insisting on surviving on your study sessions at the bridge and consultations you would squeeze in with professors after lessons.

Mark would’ve done the same, if he wasn’t so busy trying to juggle catching up with his classes and practicing for the quidditch finals. You’d noticed his disappearance after lessons, no longer finding the Gryffindor boy competing with you for a consultation slot with your Potions teacher or a space at the library.

The day before the Quidditch match, you’d just ended a consultation session with Taeil (which Johnny had not unceremoniously interrupted this time, due to him calling an early night for the sake of tomorrow’s match), and though you knew you were already past curfew, you weren’t as stressed about it, you knew Mark would’ve been too strung-up about the match to pay attention to your disobeying of curfew (or at least you hoped).

Plus, he was the only prefect that found it necessary to make your life hell just for something as simple as going to bed late. ‘ _That’s 15 points for sneaking out after curfew_ ’ you could practically hear his voice.

Deciding to take a small walk while you headed back to your common room, you decided to take the longer route back, which would lead you towards the viaduct, something that you found looked absolutely beautiful in the night.

Hugging your robes closer to yourself, you’d let out a sigh at the feeling of the cool breeze caressing the skin of your face gently, almost freezing in place when you saw a figure walking towards you on the bridge.

Your wand instantly went to your robes, casting a spell to freeze the figure in place, daring yourself to go forward, slowly trying to piece out more details of the figure, like how they were only dressed in a loose white shirt and sweatpants, how they were crazy to have gone out dressed in just this, how they wore round glasses on their face similar to Mark’s.

Leaning closer and squinting your eyes, you saw that it really _was_ M ark.

In your time in Slytherin, one thing Yuta had taught you was to trust your gut. And one thing that your gut was telling you right now was that him being here now was definitely not his own doing.

And as much as you didn’t like him, _it wasn’t like you to leave him here like this._ “Why are you here?” you pushed down your pride to ask, earning a frown from him. “I’m heading to the common room,” he told you as if you should’ve known.

You shook your head, “I’ve been through this route a thousand times. This isn’t the way to the Gryffindor common room...” you began, your intuition proving right when you saw the way he’d pointed towards the direction of the forbidden forest.

“No, it’s this way. I have to go through the forest,” his eyes looked almost glazed over, too blank to be normal.

Your frown deepened, you knew that this had to be the doing of those horrible Slytherins because the final quidditch match was tomorrow. And like you said, _you couldn’t just leave him here._

Undoing the leg-locker curse you’d done on him, you watched as he visibly relaxed, about to continue on his way towards the forbidden forest until you’d caught hold of his arm quickly, almost flinching at how cold his skin felt.

“You’re crazy, coming out just in this,” you sighed, not wanting to think of the possibility that the students who had done this to him had rid him of his robe and scarf as well, though it had seemed they were kind enough to leave him with his wand.

“I didn’t,” he looked down at his clothes, almost as if he was only realising then that he wasn’t wearing his robes anymore, his hand moving to grasp his wand, making your eyes widen.

“Hey, hey, chill. Don’t curse me,” you rushed to shove his hand down, Mark observing your face in suspicion, as if he was supposed to remove you for obstructing his path to the ‘common room’.

Biting down on your pride once again, you figured Johnny had better thank you for being so nice to his friend as you unwrapped your scarf from your neck, slinging it around him, folding it so it was snug against his neck, the little embroidered flower your mom had sewn onto it practically glaring at you mockingly.

“Uh...follow me, I’ll take you to the uh... _forest_ ,” you told him, seeing him nod dumbly, letting you grab his wrist and lead him around the castle towards the potions room.

Whatever nice night walk you had planned had long been forgotten now, the only thing weighing on your mind now being to cure him of whatever _confusion draught_ they’d given him and find out who exactly did this to him.

You could practically hear Donghyuck making fun of you for being so compassionate, especially to Mark, of all people, who you were just saying a week ago that you wished you could transfigure into a snail so you wouldn’t have to hear him.

Successfully unlocking the door to the potions room, you’d seated him down on one of the benches, your hands moving quickly to set up whatever you needed.

“This isn’t the forest,” Mark pouted, disappointment evident in his tone.

You moved quickly as you’d prepared everything you needed, hoping your memory wasn’t failing you, “uh-huh, I’ll bring you to the forest after this, I promise. Can you bring me one of the textbooks?”

It seemed that the confusion Mark was under hadn’t rendered him completely unable to follow instructions, with how he’d wordlessly reached over to the shelf and grabbed a textbook, standing up and going over to hold it out before your face.

Taking it from him, you gestured for him to sit down, a slight tinge of annoyance still within you at the fact that he’d ruined your plans for the night.

Flipping the pages to find the potion you were brewing, hoping that it would be enough to counter the effects of whatever spell they’d casted on him, you sighed, continuing to mix the potion.

“Why are there so many damn colour changes to this stupid potion,” you huffed harshly.

Once the potion was supposed to be simmering for 10 minutes, you’d finally looked up from the pot to assess Mark’s current situation, the boy growing more impatient that you weren’t leading him to his ‘common room’.

“You said you were gonna bring me to my common room,” Mark frowned, looking at you with apparent distrust, his hands gripping the sides of his seat firmly, tucking his chin into your scarf with a sigh, making his cheeks squish up (rather cutely, you hated to admit).

“Yeah, shut up, I’ll bring you, just wait like,” you paused to glance at the wall clock, “6 more minutes.”

Out of curiosity, you’d narrowed your eyes at him, “who was the last person you remember meeting?”

Mark’s gaze clouded, almost as if he was _made_ not to remember, looking up to you with his lips parted, shaking his head as his tongue peeked out to wet his lips.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his hand leaving the chair to run his fingers through his hair in frustration, “why can’t I remember.”

You glanced at the potion, deeming it just about ready, not bothering to waste any more time to pour it into a pretty vial, simply scooping an ample amount on a ladle and holding it out for him, “drink.”

Mark was obedient, that in itself scaring you with how impressionable the confusion charm had made him, taking the ladle from you and downing the potion, and you’d done your best to return everything to its rightful place while he was busy, clearing the table of any spills or possible ‘evidence’ used against you with a quick spell.

By the time you were done, it seemed that Mark had regained his bearings, the usual awkward tension between the both of you returning.

For a second, just a _tiny_ second, you’d wished you hadn’t given him the potion, much preferring the lack of hostility he had towards you when he was under the effects of the spell.

“What...” Mark examined his surroundings, his gaze fixating back on you as if out of habit, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find the right words, “what did you do?”

Scoffing, you narrowed your eyes at him, “I didn’t _do_ anything. Contrary to what you may think, I actually have things to do other than fight with you.”

Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise, opening his mouth but closing it back for lack of a better response, a part of him still confused about the situation at hand.

You let out a small sigh, dropping your voice to a soft murmur, “long story, think some people tried to send you into the forbidden forest. Seemed like you were under a seriously strong confusion draught,” you told him as briefly and void of emotion as you could.

Thankfully for you, Mark had been too embarrassed to pursue the topic further, simply letting out a sigh, nothing but an ‘oh’ leaving him.

You’d gone before him, peeking through the small window in the door before pushing it open gently, stepping out and deciding the coast was clear enough for Mark to come out as well.

You’d trust your gut as you walked, since neither of you had made any move to shine a light to see better lest you attract attention, “can you see anything? Because I can’t, like, _at all_ ,” you murmured.

“Me neither, but we don’t have any cloak to hide the light so we have no cho—”

“Wait, shut up, someone’s coming,” you whispered upon spotting one of the Ravenclaw prefects patrolling at the end of the corridor you were at, shoving Mark back behind a pillar, eliciting a small yelp from him.

“ _Invisique_ , ” you murmured the first spell you could think of, earning a glare from Mark, who clamped a hand over your mouth, using his wand and making a motion around the both of you silently as he performed an invisibility spell, trying desperately to hold back his laughter at whatever faux invisibility spell you’d muttered.

While you were waiting for the Ravenclaw prefect to leave, you hoped the pounding of your heart wasn’t too loud, Mark’s hand over your mouth rendering you even more frozen in place, not used to being in such close proximity with him in the six years you’d known him.

You’d tried to keep your gaze steady, hating the way you’d let your gaze wander to the exposed skin of his arms, not used to seeing him in anything other than his school and quidditch uniform.

Letting go of you finally, you’d taken a small step away from him, your expression showing evident distress from his actions, taking your lower lip between your teeth as you did your best to look anywhere _but_ at him.

Nodding your head at him in thanks, you’d followed him in silence back to the common rooms, stopping at the Gryffindor common rooms first.

“Just so you know,” Mark began, “don’t think I didn’t realise this meant you were out past curfew again,” he whispered, making your eyes widen.

“I basically undid that spell for you! If it weren’t for me—”

Mark couldn’t help the breathy huffs of laughter that escaped him, “right, you and _spells_. What was that you said just now? _Invisique_? I’ve never heard that one before.”

You huffed, your cheeks flushing at the reminder of your fumble just now, “right, you haven’t...because it’s from a tv show. I got it confused with the actual spell...”

Mark pressed his lips together in a firm line, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, though it did nothing to hide his smile, making you scoff at him, shoving him lightly.

Was he actually smiling at you? Like, _genuinely_ smiling? None of those ‘ _oh yeah you totally did well_ ’ smiles or ‘ _wow, congratulations on getting first in class_ ’ smiles. The smile you were looking at now reminded you vividly of the smile you saw on your very first train to Hogwarts.

Now, you were meeting a different Mark. Not the sixth year Gryffindor golden-boy that wouldn’t even spare you so much as a glance, but instead, the Mark that gave you hope that there was still some semblance to the boy you made friends with.

Mark noticed this too, how just one incident was enough to make him slip up in front of you, making him regain his composure quickly, clearing his throat softly and glancing around even though he knew the prefects would have gone back by now.

“Uh, yeah...goodnight.”

Your eyes widened, not being able to help yourself from blurting, “really? no detention? You’re not even gonna minus any Slytherin points?”

Mark huffed, averting his gaze again as he shook his head, “go before I change my mind.”

You smiled, the sight in itself enough to make Mark’s breath hitch, having to turn around to face the fat lady’s portrait as he tried to steady his heartbeat and rid the tint from his cheeks lest Johnny get suspicious.

And you were the same, going back into your dormitory with a giddy smile on your face, the relief of today’s interaction with Mark making all those years of bickering start to feel worth it.

===

Surely enough, you were sure that if magical Gods existed, they were definitely trying to clown you now. The quidditch match had gotten postponed because of some disagreement between the captains of the two teams, the professors having gotten fed up and given the teams a month to settle their differences.

Long story short, you wished you’d just let Mark waltz his way into the forbidden forest, considering a month was long enough for him to recover from whatever was awaiting him there.

Which was what caused you to be looped into a round of pity drinks in Yuta’s dorm room, Johnny having snuck in seamlessly after years of doing so with Taeyong to hang out with Yuta.

“Heard you went on a date yesterday night,” Donghyuck began, eyeing you curiously for a reaction that would prove his suspicions correct.

You almost choked at Donghyuck’s sudden accusation, making your eyes widen, casting a wide-eyed look at Yuta.

“Who’d you hear that from?” you scoffed, your attention directed towards Johnny, who was leaning against the lower bunk of the bed, wiggling his fingers in a wave at you.

“That would be _me_ ,” he drawled, a knowing smile on his face.

You shook your head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I went back to the common room after I finished studying,” you told him, almost feeling like you were defending a lost cause from the way Johnny had scrunched his nose up.

“C’mon, the least you could do is _entertain_ me,” Johnny whined, “I already had my game cancelled this morning,” he prompted, making you raise an eyebrow at him, hoping your lying had improved over the years .

“As much as I _wish_ I had someone I could go on a date with, I don’t. And that’s that, end of story,” you shrugged, bringing whatever strange drink Yuta had brewed up to your lips and taking a sip.

“Mark seemed to think differently,” Donghyuck gave you a nonchalant shrug, shifting in his seat so he was lying on his belly now, fiddling with his empty can of soda.

You tried to keep yourself calm, narrowing your eyes at Yuta who was looking at you blankly, his gaze intense as he tried to figure out what you were feeling, “what?”

“Are you and him on good terms now?” Yuta asked with a frown, earning a shake of the head from you.

“Things like that don’t happen overnight, you know.”

Johnny snorted, “just tell us what happened, please,” his voice had a hint of a whine to it, like a stubborn child.

You rolled your eyes, “okay, fine. But it really wasn’t anything special. I saw him when I was going back to the common room, and he seemed really messed up by some confusion charm some people did on him, so I just brought him to the potions room and then that was it.”

You were met with the blank stares of the three boys, Johnny breaking the silence first to huff.

“Seriously? That’s it? Even Taeil and I had more exciting stories,” Johnny huffed.

“Firstly, I didn’t need to know that,” Donghyuck made a gagging noise, “and secondly, that’s because it probably wasn’t romantic at all, I mean, _look at them._ I don’t think Mark has a single romantic bone in his body,” Donghyuck rolled his eyes, making Johnny burst into giggles.

“And you do?” Yuta quipped with a smirk, quieting Donghyuck almost immediately. Yuta turned to Johnny, tilting his drink slightly in his direction, “that was disappointing, you would think just one drop of a truth serum got more details out of him than you did.”

“You guys used truth serum on him?” your eyes widened, making Johnny glare at Yuta.

“Dude, you weren’t supposed to say anything,” he spoke through gritted teeth, making Yuta struggle to hold back his laughter as Donghyuck was losing it on the floor, clutching his belly as his laughter made him roll onto his back.

“I mean it with all my heart when I say the two of you are hopeless,” he sighed, wiping the fake tears from his eyes.

You’d averted your gaze, staring into your drink in hand, “uh...well, what did he say?” you asked, making Johnny sigh wistfully.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask him yourself, ” Johnny shrugged, making you frown, knowing there was no way you would ever do that unless you were being held under gunpoint, or wandpoint in this case.

“Shut up, Johnny. You know that’s not happening,” you huffed, downing the rest of your drink as Johnny hummed thoughtfully.

“Well, then I guess you’ll have to live without knowing, then.” And live without knowing you did.

What Johnny wouldn’t tell you, was that Mark had little to no recollection of what had happened before he’d drank the wit-sharpening potion you made for him. All he remembered was the journey back from the potions room and that was it.

Which was why he was even more confused at the green and silver scarf that was sitting on his bed when he’d woken up the next morning.

Examining the scarf closely, Mark had figured it was Donghyuck’s scarf, since he knew Donghyuck had been in his dorm that weekend to play video games with Johnny. Deciding that that was enough deduction for him, he had gotten it ready on Monday morning, planning on giving it to Donghyuck during lunch.

“Where are you going with that?” Johnny asked, earning a shake of the head from Mark, who was already taking the scarf out from his robe pocket.

“Oh, I gotta return this to hyuck,” Mark explained, unsure why his statement had only seemed to amuse Johnny further.

“Donghyuck?” Johnny swallowed his mouthful of food with a wince, “he burnt his scarf a month ago, that’s definitely not his. ”

Sensing something was off, Johnny looked across the great hall to see you sitting with Yuta and Donghyuck, except you were missing your scarf as well.

Tilting his head down slightly, Johnny turned the scarf around, his amusement growing when it revealed the embroidered flower at the end.

“This,” Johnny’s thumb brushed over the stitching, “this is Y/N’s scarf.” Johnny murmured casually, turning to bring his cup of what he figured was grape juice to his lips.

“Who?” Mark sputtered, almost choking on his own spit.

Johnny pressed his lips together firmly, though it did nothing to hide his growing smile, nodding at Mark, “you heard me. Why do you have it, anyway?” Johnny narrowed his eyes at Mark.

“You’re asking me?” Mark’s tone was incredulous, and too defensive to be neutral, “ _I_ should be asking _you!_ I honestly don’t remember _anything_ about how I got this.”

Johnny nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow at Mark who was slowly pushing the scarf towards him, taking one of Johnny’s hands and placing it on top of the scarf gently.

“Oh...no, no way,” Johnny sputtered into a bout of airy laughter, removing his hand from the scarf instantly, “I’m not returning it for you, if that’s what you’re thinking. You gotta do it yourself.”

Mark frowned, “but I _can’t_ , dude—”

“‘ _But I can’t dude’_ , ” Johnny mimicked, “Why not? It’s _just a scarf_ , ” Johnny’s smirk only seemed to irk Mark even more, feeling helpless at the thought that _both_ Johnny and his sibling were the cause of his distress. _Maybe it ran in the family_.

Mark glared at Johnny, (though it wasn’t very menacing, Johnny found that Mark likened to a baby lion), practically rolling in satisfaction as he pushed Mark to initiate a conversation with you, or an interaction, at least.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Mark narrowed his eyes at Johnny.

The older Gryffindor held his hands up defensively, giving Mark a shrug before he returned to scooping another heaped spoonful of food into his mouth, “not my scarf, Mark. Not my problem,” there was a teasing lilt to his tone as he shrugged.

“Johnny, _please_ , ” Mark whined, still trying to shove the scarf into his arms, making Johnny huff, shoving it back to Mark with twice the force.

“Just hand it back after your lesson together or something,” Johnny shrugged. Mark wanted to cry, “but we have _every_ lesson together—”

“Shut up, you’ll be _fine_ , don’t be a baby,” Johnny insisted, managing to shut Mark up for the rest of the meal, said boy too busy thinking of possible ways to give you the stupid scarf.

_It’s fine, he’d just hold on to it now, and then put it on your desk before Charms, simple_.

Except, one lesson turned into one day, and one day turned into two days, and soon enough Mark was almost a week in and still struggling to find the ‘ _perfect time_ ’ to give you back your scarf.

His first attempt laid in sending his owl to you with the scarf. However, one thing he failed to realise was that his owl was _very much blind_ and he’d forgotten to send it together with the scarf, leaving you more than confused when his owl had squawked its way into the library, dropping a note unceremoniously onto your head and attracting a whole lot of unwanted attention towards you. _Not to mention from the cranky seventh-years who were busy studying for their final year exams._

That had seemed to minus off more brownie points for Mark than add any, since it’d only made walking around the castle harder with all the fifth-year girls from Mark’s personal fan club shooting death glares at you whenever you walked by.

It wasn’t as if his letter said anything anyway, since his owl had delivered the wrong one. But sure, if they wanted Mark to send them a blank card with an ink splodge that read ‘ _testing pen ink_ ’ you would’ve assured them that they could just have yours.

The second attempt was when you’d started noticing how weird he was being. He’d stopped you outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with a resolute look on his face.

“Yes?” you glanced around in confusion, knowing that there were many students walking past you who wondered if Mark approaching you meant another fight was about to break out in the hallways.

It was all confusing you, really, how he’d gone from his snarky comments to just completely avoiding you, and then proceeding to ask you if you could ‘ _spare him some time_ ’ to talk after class.

Mark was about to speak, only his words had gotten caught in his throat when he heard someone call your name, spotting Yuta bounding over in your direction, his hair bouncing on his head lightly as he jogged, casting a curious look to Mark.

Mark felt almost frozen in place, making you furrow your eyebrows at him, “what do you want, Mark? We’re late for class.”

You didn’t understand if this was some kind of prank he was trying to pull on you, though even if it was, you wouldn’t have understood his motive. But thankfully for you, Yuta’s hand around your shoulder had taken your attention away from Mark, making you turn away from him briefly.

“Oh, _Mark_ ,” Yuta smiled, tilting his head expectantly at the Gryffindor boy, “how can I help you?”

Mark’s eyes widened, his eyebrows raising in panic, making him shake his head quickly, “no, nothing just...wanted to remind Y/N about uh...her detention this evening.”

Your lips parted, your head tilting in confusion at Mark, ignoring the way Yuta had giggled next to you.

“What did you do this time?” Yuta nudged you, squeezing your shoulder. “I didn’t do anyth—”

“And please wear the right socks,” Mark tried to keep his voice as steady as possible, turning around and briskly walking off before you could pursue the topic further.

Glancing down, you saw that you were indeed wearing mismatched socks, though that didn’t seem to be an issue for you before, not like anyone paid attention to your socks anyway (well, anyone other than Mark)

“God, he’s been so weird these days,” you told Yuta, who decided he had enough time to escort you to your class, the boy walking beside you and thankfully warding off all the dirty looks you’d been getting from Mark’s fanclub, all of them seemingly too scared to look Yuta in the eye.

“Here he is, telling me about my _socks_ when your shirt looks like you’d squeeze dried it straight from the wash,” you huffed, “and it isn’t even tucked in!”

“I thought it was pretty cute,” Yuta shrugged, “he seemed shy, almost, just now.”

You looked at Yuta as though he’d grown another head, “excuse me? Did you _not_ hear the part where he gave me detention for no reason?”

Yuta held his hands up in defence, shoving them into his pockets as you neared your classroom, “what? I’m just saying, you gotta consider how if you guys weren’t at each other’s necks all the time you’d actually make pretty good friends.”

You groaned, “and you decided that _now_ would be a good time to give me counselling on that? Look, Mark has made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything to do with me, or just anything Slytherin in general,” you added, “I’d much rather leave my expectations _low_ , thank you very much.”

Yuta nodded patronisingly, “yeah, yeah. Whatever. Enjoy _maintaining_ your enemies, then,” he ruffled your hair, “have a good lesson, I’ll see you at dinner. Wait no, after your _detention_.”

Bidding him goodbye, you’d tried not to let whatever Yuta said about Mark get to you too much, entering the class and coming face to face with your least favourite professor. _History of Magic_ wasn’t the most amazing subject in the world, so you figured that was why it didn’t have that amazing of a professor either.

The other Slytherin students seemed to like him quite a fair bit, considering he was one of the head teachers for Slytherin house, but you never got very good feelings from your interactions with him, something in his words always leaving you with more to unpack.

Today, he’d initiated a discussion on the Second Wizarding War, seeming rather insistent on the fact that your class didn’t know much about it from your poor scores on the last test he’d assigned.

He’d instructed a Slytherin student to hand out the papers (not that that wasn’t expected of him), not missing the way the student had eyed you curiously when he handed you your script, making you curious as to what was on your exam script, surprising yourself when you saw that you’d gotten a good grade on your essay.

“Who here can tell me what kind of changes the wizarding world went through before, during, and after the second wizarding war?” His voice bellowed obnoxiously around the classroom, as you tried to suppress your confusion at his loaded question.

You heard a voice from the back of the class (surely one of his Slytherin pets) squeak out, “the laws changed, sir.”

“Very good,” he clasped his hands together, making his way around the classroom slowly, “now can you give me an example of what kind of laws were in place before the war?”

There were shouts of things like ‘ _no underage magic_!’ or things along that line, not that you were paying much attention, your gaze seeming to constantly wander towards Mark’s direction, seeing the boy flipping the pages of his book half-heartedly, clearly uninterested in the discussion at hand.

“Y/N! You did well for the test, so you should be able to answer my question, right? Considering you’re well read on the war.”

Both yours and Mark’s heads had snapped up at the mention of your name, your eyes widening when you saw your professor standing in front of your desk.

Using one hand to gesture for you to get up, you did as he told, gulping visibly as you fiddled with your fingers, “uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your question.”

Your professor sighed, “I said, you all are forgetting one important rule that was, _quite unfortunately_ , revoked after the war. I gave you a clue already,” he seemed as though he were addressing the rest of the class despite how he fixed his gaze on you.

“You, as a Slytherin, should be very knowledgeable about this. It’s something the founder of your house found _very_ important regarding the students of your house,” he smiled, though it seemed awfully sinister.

You furrowed your eyebrows, not knowing what answer he was expecting from you.

“I...” your gaze scanned the classroom, meeting Mark’s eyes before averting your gaze quickly, “I’m sorry, I don’t know.”

You heard harsh whispers around the class, one of the Slytherin students behind you speaking up, “sir, I think Y/N doesn’t know because they’re one of them,” making the students around him snicker, poorly stifling their laughter.

As if that wasn’t confusing enough, your professor had raised his eyebrows, looking at you with almost a certain amount of disdain.

“Is that so? Well, I never would’ve expected that,” he turned quickly to face the rest of the class, his gaze landing on Mark, who had tensed up in his seat.

“You, Gryffindor boy, get up and tell the class the answer,” he murmured, making Mark’s eyes widen, getting up from his seat hesitantly, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on your professor. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought Mark was angry.

Inhaling deeply, Mark sighed softly, refusing to meet your gaze all the while. “Blood purity, sir.”

“Thank you, you may sit down,” he gestured for Mark to sit, “now I want the rest of you to read pages 103 to 115 now.”

He turned to you afterwards, not bothering to lower his voice as he narrowed his eyes at you, “is it true? That you’re a _mudblood_? ”

Mark was watching intently from where he sat, discreetly casting a spell for him to better eavesdrop on your conversation with the professor.

Your lips parted, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, especially with the way he was attracting the attention of the many Slytherin students behind you that had shared his sentiments.

You nodded, albeit belatedly, “yes, professor.”

Mark’s eyes widened, forgetting all about whatever page he was on, trying desperately to crane his neck to get a look at you, his gaze hardening when he saw the look on your professor’s face.

He pursed his lips, his expression changing to one of disgust, letting out a huff, “how disgraceful. It seems I expected too much from you,” he murmured,

Mark couldn’t focus for the rest of the lesson, his head was a mess of thoughts about how you may have been feeling. A strong feeling within himself begging him to comfort you, yet the other part of him feeling like he didn’t deserve to swoop in after all the hurt that he had caused you. He could almost laugh at his situation.

_Ironic that it was all because of the silly issue of how pure one’s blood was._

It wasn’t as if you were able to focus very well for the rest of the lesson as well, the not-so-hushed whispers from the students behind you putting you in a sour mood, wanting nothing more than to just find somewhere as far away from them as you could possibly be.

After the lesson, Mark had expected to see you with Yuta at the great hall, figuring he would be a good person for you to confide in about what had happened during the lesson. Although, you hadn’t seemed to show up.

Yuta seemed equally as confused, going over to the Gryffindor table asking if Mark or Johnny had seen you.

“Y/N’s last lesson was with you, wasn’t it?” Johnny had asked Mark once they were back in their dorm room, Mark looking awfully jittery while he sat at his desk, his leg bouncing restlessly.

“Yeah, actually. Uh... I think she was pretty upset after the lesson,” Mark began, halting Johnny’s movements at his bed, craning his neck around the bed-post to look at Mark with furrowed eyebrows.

“What happened?”

“Oh, you know... just...the History of Magic professor back on his bullshit, same old—”

Johnny straightened up abruptly, making Mark pause mid-speech, his urge to go and check on you growing with each second.

“Yo, you know, maybe if you happen to walk past the viaduct later you could see if Y/N’s there—”

“Go, Mark.” Johnny’s tone was knowing, tired almost. _Definitely tired of Mark’s mixed messages, that was for sure._

Mark sputtered, opening and closing his mouth as his gaze darted around the room, going back to look at Johnny for a silent confirmation.

“I’m- what, huh?”

Johnny sighed, a hint of a smirk at his lips as he shook his head at Mark.

“Shut up, dude, I know you heard me. Go,” Johnny repeated, firmer this time. And that was all Mark needed to hear, not bothering to remove his robe before he’d left.

You knew that it was probably about time for you to return to the common rooms, but something just made it hard for you to move. You’d spent who-knows how long trying to hold back your tears as you leant against one of the pillars of the bridge.

Hearing thumping footsteps get louder, you inhaled deeply, hoping that your breathing wouldn’t be too loud to expose you. Your hand had gone to cover your mouth when you’d realised it was Mark, looking up as you blinked back your tears rapidly.

He knew you were here, no matter how strong your cloaking spell was. Mark knew what this place meant to you, and to him as well. He just _knew_ you would be here.

As he made his way closer to you, your lips trembled under your palm, your other fist clenching as you struggled to maintain your steady breaths, not understanding why his presence made it so much harder for you to keep yourself from crying.

Mark stood across from where you sat at the viaduct, a soft hiccup letting him know that you were here.

Trying his best to keep from smiling, Mark pulled his wand from his pocket, pointing it at you and silently undoing your cloaking charm, revealing you seated there with your knees up to your chest and your hand clasped over your mouth, your eyes red and brimming with tears.

Looking away, you’d wished you could telepathically shoo him away as he continued to take steps towards you, your hands coming up to wipe roughly at your tears that had refused to go away.

“Go away, Mark,” you mumbled, your voice shaky, “I know I skipped detention, just... go ahead and minus the points.”

Confused at his lack of a reaction, you dared yourself to look at him crouching in front of you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“I lied, about detention,” he told you, making you frown.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” you scoffed, your tears welling up once again, warranting a frustrated huff from you.

Mark shook his head, pressing his lips together firmly, “no, it’s not. I’m sorry. I just kind of, you know, panicked when Yuta showed up.”

You shot him a look, “okay, fine. Apology accepted. If that’s all you came to say, can you leave me alone now? I _really_ don’t feel like fighting with you right now.”

Mark wasn’t sure what came over him when he reached into his robe, taking your scarf out from his pocket, rendering you speechless as he wordlessly reached forward to wrap the scarf around your neck, folding it just like how he always saw you’d worn it.

“Then don’t,” he murmured, shifting so he was sitting next to you now, with his back against the pillar as well, propping his knees up and resting his arms on his knees, a deep sigh leaving him. He wondered for a moment, how long it’s been since the both of you sat here together listening to the rustling of the trees and the flowing water of the lake. _Too long,_ he concluded. 

Today, you were meeting a different Mark, yet it was a side of him that felt so comforting, as if you’d always known it, yet it managed to spark so many unfamiliar feelings in you. The Mark that you were meeting today looked at you with such a pure, unadulterated concern that it made your heart do flips, wishing that this Mark was here to stay, finding that you needed it’s familiarity now more than ever.

“I wanted to uh... thank you properly, for that day at the potions room,” he mumbled, “I um... I honestly, really owe you for that.”

You nodded, taking your lower lip between your teeth as you rest your head on your folded arms.

“You’re free to feel indebted to me, that potion wasn’t easy to make,” you huffed.

Mark couldn’t help himself from smiling, the sight of you making him have to sit on his hands to refrain from reaching over to pat your head.

A heavy silence had fallen between the both of you, almost suffocating you with how thick the tension had felt while you still struggled to swallow the lump in your throat and fight back the urge to cry. Mark’s presence beside you making it even more painful that the universe would send you someone like him when you were in such a vulnerable state of mind. 

“You’re allowed to feel hurt, you know,” Mark broke the silence eventually, his words proving enough to push you off the brink of tears, letting out a small huff as your tears had started to fall. 

In that moment, Mark decided that today wasn’t a day to be so calculative over his decisions regarding you.

Mark shocked you when you’d felt his hand on your shoulder, your body tensing up under his touch, to which he’d gulped, his gaze clouded by the sheer amount of feelings within him.

Finding the strength in him to meet your eyes, you watched how his lips had parted, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips before speaking.

“We can go back to fighting tomorrow, just... for tonight,” he inhaled deeply, “let me be here for you.”

And strangely enough, you didn’t need any more words to be exchanged between the both of you, letting yourself relax and allowing him to pull you closer so your head rest gently against his shoulder, his hand coming up to caress the back of your head soothingly, letting your tears seeping through the fabric of his robe. Mark wordlessly reached over, removing his prefect badge from his robe so it wouldn’t scratch you.

Mark didn’t mind the extent he would go to make sure you were okay. He didn’t back then, and he didn’t now. Not at all.

That was how you knew that perhaps this side of Mark was present all this while, but just didn’t know how to make itself known. You were starting to understand that now.

===

It seemed that after that night, the two of you hadn’t necessarily returned to your routine of fighting each other, but instead, your relationship was almost... _transactional,_ in a sense. Well, maybe just on the surface.

For instance, the next time you’d seen Mark in _Herbology_ , he’d gotten distracted by the way you were so focused on your task, (which was poor judgement on Mark’s part) resulting in him being seized by one of the more dangerous plants you were dealing with.

It was called a _Venomous Tentacula_ , Mark remembered the teacher saying before he’d zoned out to look at you, an ugly looking plant with curving vines and pointy spikes lining it’s branch. His loud curse had caught your attention quickly, casting a severing charm to free him from the plant’s hold.

After this, Mark had insisted he was still _‘indebted’_ to you, trying to find any means possible to make it up to you. Though slowly, it became less of _‘debt’_ and more of an excuse for him to do nice things for you.

Like how on another occasion, he’d bumped into you after a late night of studying in the library, choosing to pretend the encounter had never happened.

“Okay, fine, when’s my next detention slot,” you sighed expectantly, catching Mark off guard with how willingly you were accepting your fate this time.

“I owe you, it’s fine,” he insisted, letting you off in broad daylight (moonlight, if you were being specific). The worst part was, he’d even _smiled_ at you that night.

Taeil found it painfully obvious in Charms lessons, where Mark had slipped up on his spell (out of distraction, once again), causing him to make a crack in the lens of his glasses.

To which you had to go through the longest 2 minutes of your life listening to him struggling to remember the spell to repair his glasses, making you reach over with a loud sigh and point your wand at his face. Leaving Mark wide eyed as he watched the crack in the lens of his glasses disappear.

“You looked like an idiot trying to do it yourself, don’t get the wrong idea,” you would say, which Taeil would proceed to recount to Johnny, who would then relay it to Yuta and Donghyuck, the group of boys growing more frustrated at the both of you the more stories they shared.

You’d been making your way down the spiral staircase when you’d felt yourself freeze in place, unable to walk any further, making the students around you tut their tongues at you in annoyance as they walked around you.

About to undo the spell, Mark had shown up in front of you, shaking his head to get his hair away from his eyes.

He looked anything but apologetic, giving you a nonchalant shrug, “What? You were walking too fast.”

“Undo it, Mark,” you sighed, hoping your face wouldn’t give away how flustered you were on the inside.

“No, wait, wait. Here.” Mark held a small notebook in front of you.

You frowned, “ _a notebook_? I have plenty in my dorm. No, thanks.”

Mark rolled his eyes, a small groan leaving him, “it’s not _just_ a notebook. It’s my charms notes, I wrote them for you- I mean, for the practical test coming up...” he shoved the book closer to you, taking one of your hands to place the book in it, “and before you ask, I’ve already studied for it. I just... thought you might need it, and stuff.”

You scoffed, wanting to reject him but knowing better than anyone that you needed those notes, since you knew Mark had written many notes on non-verbal spells for his perusal.

(He would never tell you, but he’d made sure he’d added every single one he knew, even the ones he never felt the need to write down before, you know, _‘just in case’_ you would need them). Eyeing him suspiciously, Mark was prompted to continue, nudging his glasses higher on his nose bridge as he spoke.

“Consider it... _payment_ for fixing my glasses... and saving me from the crazy plant thing,” he added, seeming to be giving you reasons to take the notebook.

So, like any reasonable person, you accepted. Unfortunately, not missing the way his cheeks tinted pink as he undid the spell quickly, nodding at you before jogging off. Leaving you about a hundred percent sure the reason behind your legs feeling like jelly when he left was _definitely_ not because of the spell.

===

“Damn, when did your handwriting get so _ugly_. ”

You shut the book with a loud thud upon hearing Donghyuck’s voice, turning in your seat in the library to look at him with wide eyes. 

“What?”

Donghyuck narrowed his eyes at you, a slight pause before he’d lunged forward for the book, harshly ripping it out of your grip as he flopped down onto the seat next to you.

Flipping through the pages, a sound of confusion left Donghyuck, feigning an exaggerated yawn as he read the page contents, “ _seriously_? You were hiding _charms notes_ from me?”

Your lips parted, unsure how to respond to him as you nodded in apology to the other students at the library, your silence only prompting him to continue.

“I thought you were writing in your diary or something, seriously, could you give me something to work with here?” he sighed, shoulders sagging in disappointment, “your handwriting _really_ sucks by the way, did I already mention tha-wait...” Donghyuck let out a long gasp, he had flipped his way to the back of the book, spotting a small inscription on the back fold of the book.

‘ _property of mark lee/ lee minhyung’_ it read.

Donghyuck’s eyebrows raised higher than you’d ever seen before, a mischievous smile making its way on his face.

“Why do you have this...did you steal it?” he leaned closer, inspecting your face for a lie, you supposed.

Rolling your eyes, you’d taken the book back from him with a huff, “I didn’t,” you lowered your voice to a whisper, “ _steal_ it. I borrowed it fair and square.”

“Yeah, _same difference_. What’s his excuse now? Did you _save him a seat in class_ or something?” Donghyuck cooed, making you wonder why he was so confidently accusing you.

“What do you mean, _‘excuse’_?” you folded your arms, leaning back in your chair as you fiddled with your sleeve anxiously.

“Don’t act stupid. You and I both know _‘feeling indebted’_ isn’t the reason why you and Mark have been so weird with each other lately.”

You ignored his knowing smirk, choosing to change the subject.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” you asked, your sudden change in topic catching him off guard momentarily.

Donghyuck gave you a shrug, “you know, studying with Yuta.”

“You? _Actually studying_?” you snorted, “I’m assuming an ill intention is involved somewhere?” you teased, appreciating the way Donghyuck grit his teeth at you.

“You’re projecting,” he smiled sweetly.

“That reminds me, I told Johnny I’d meet him tonight. He said he had a bunch of stuff he wanted to give me,” you sighed.

“He’s _already_ packing? He’s that confident about his exams?” Donghyuck’s tone was amused to say the least, holding out a hand to help you up.

You shook your head, “it’s more of... _stress_ cleaning than spring cleaning.”  
Upon reaching Johnny’s room, having snuck in seamlessly after a few compliments to the fat lady, you’d winced at the sheer mess of things in his room.

From old textbooks to boxes filled with miscellaneous junk he’d collected over the years, you pitied his roommates, his stress creating barely enough space for even _breathing_.

“Good, you’re here!” Johnny beamed, pulling his headphones down so they hung around his neck as you walked over to his bed, spotting a box full of varying gifts from small teddy bears to heart shaped lollipops.

“What’s all this?” you giggled, sitting cross-legged on his bed as you sifted through the box.

Johnny turned to cast a half-hearted glance at the box, “oh, nothing. Just gifts I got after quidditch matches, feel free to look.”

“There’s so many,” you hummed in awe, “I wonder how much money these people spent just on your stupid gifts,” you giggled, flipping over a small pink compact mirror that someone had bedazzled for him.

Johnny straightened up with a sigh, wincing as he cracked his back.

“Mark’s been telling me to clear them out for ages but I just can’t bring myself to throw them away.”

You hummed, too impressed at his popularity as you read some of the cards people had left with the gifts to notice his mention of Mark, “I mean, the notes are nice. I wouldn’t throw those away,” you shrugged.

Picking up what looked like a heart-shaped jewellery box, you saw a note on it that read ‘ _enjoy your win -Yuta’._

“Yuta?” you mumbled, opening the box and being pleasantly surprised when you found that it was a box of _chocolate cauldrons_. Holding the box over your head, you saw that there was still a more than reasonable amount of time before it expired (God bless wizardry, really. The shelf life on these things were _amazing_ ).

Deciding to help yourself, you popped one into your mouth, biting into the chocolate with a surprised hum leaving you.

“Can I eat your gifts?” your question came a little belatedly, but the distracted half wave from Johnny was all you needed to carry on.

About halfway through the box, you started to feel almost giddy, awfully endeared at the fact that Yuta had given Johnny these chocolates.

Taking a bite of another truffle, you’d spotted Mark entering the room, dressed in a grey hoodie and sweatpants, his hair still messy and damp from showering.

Though strangely, you found that you weren’t feeling the same _butterflies_ or _jelly-legs_ you usually felt when you saw him these days, all that occupied your mind right now seemed to be Yuta and Yuta only.

“You want one?” you held the box up to Mark, who politely declined.

“Nah, I’ve brushed my teeth already,” he told you, confused as to why you actually initiated the conversation with him first. 

Mark figured he would let it slide just for today that you were blatantly breaking a school rule right in front of him by being here.

You’d shrugged, humming in response, “suit yourself.”

You’d abandoned the rest of the chocolates along with the note on Johnny’s bed when he’d beckoned you over to where he was holding a heaping box of things.

“These,” he heaved a sigh, “are a bunch of books for when you get bored, there’s also art supplies, which may come in handy again, if you’re bored. The rest are textbooks that are pretty much as good as new ‘cause Doyoung helped me wrap them.” He shoved the box towards you, making you grunt at the sheer weight of it.

“Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you made your way out of the dorm, turning to add, “oh, and you should thank Yuta for his gifts, those chocolates were really tasty.”

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, “Yuta?” He hadn’t recalled Yuta giving Johnny any chocolates recently.

Making his way over to Johnny’s bed, he had one hand on the top bunk to support himself, bending down to pick up the box along with the note, examining it closely.

“Dude, how long have you been keeping these chocolates?” Mark frowned, the last time he remembered seeing this box being when Johnny was at the end of his sixth year, which meant it’d been sitting around for more than a year now.

Johnny frowned, making his way over to Mark, his eyes widening when he’d immediately recognized the box.

Taking it from Mark and opening it frantically, he’d whimpered at the sight of the almost empty box.

“Shit,” Johnny winced, groaning and stomping his feet in frustration, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mark’s expression darkened, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, “please don’t tell me these are what I think they are...”

Johnny closed the box roughly, not knowing whether his immediate reaction to this was to burst out laughing or to burst out in tears. Clearly he was projecting his stress about his exams onto something else now.

Looking at the box as though it had offended him, Johnny groaned, “why did you have to show up _now_ of all times? My exams are in less than a week!”

Mark watched the scene play out in horror, Johnny’s breakdown would’ve scared him a lot less (and that was saying a lot because he was very very scared) if this situation didn’t involve you.

Eventually, Johnny tossed the box of chocolates into the trash, giving Mark a grave nod that made Mark’s heart sink.

“I hate Yuta.” 

===

Figuring the potion would have worn off on its own within 24 hours (as he had checked in his potions textbook that same night), Mark had left it alone. But when he’d walked past the quidditch pitch on his way to the library more than 2 days after and seen you sitting at the benches watching Yuta play with a lovestruck expression on your face, Mark knew he was done for.

He was surprised the teachers weren’t able to tell you were under the sickeningly strong love potion with how distracted you were in classes, somehow managing to find the space on each and every one of your notebooks to doodle drawings of Yuta or hearts around his name.

Maybe it was only obvious to him because of how much attention he paid to you on the usual (which was also something he was realising now), but that didn’t change the fact that love potions were banned on campus, and his moral duty as a prefect was his main priority in this case.

_Which was basically the lie he was religiously feeding himself as he read up on the antidote._

Taeil never enjoyed his position as a professor more than he did now, finding the situation more than amusing. From the scandalised expressions he would see Mark cast you whenever you were doing pair work and you were exceptionally distracted, to the way he’d seen your pencil scribbles of hearts and Yuta’s name at the corner of random pages in Mark’s Charms notebook during a consultation. And _especially_ after Mark had confronted him one day after Charms class, with a list of ingredients that he demanded Taeil get for him from the potions room.

“ _‘Extra credit’_ , huh?” Taeil smiled, his demeanour letting on as if he didn’t already know why Mark was asking for these ingredients.

“Yeah,” Mark breathed, rocking back on his heels anxiously as he watched Taeil pack his things into his satchel.

“Didn’t know your potions professor gave out extra credit for love potion antidotes,” Taeil quirked an eyebrow knowingly at Mark, who had frozen in place, eyes wide and unwavering.

“H-Honestly I—”

Taeil sighed, “I’m really disappointed, Mark.”

Mark winced, already formulating plan B in his head from the way Taeil didn’t sound too keen on plan A.

“I may seem old but I was a student here too, you know,” Taeil continued. 

Mark’s lips parted in shock, not having expected Taeil’s response. He scrunched his nose up, nudging his glasses higher on his nose as he did so, not knowing how to react to Taeil’s words.

“Why’s it so important anyway?” he prodded, simply wanting to hear the reason for himself (you know, just to make sure his hard work in gathering the ingredients wouldn’t go to waste).

Mark pursed his lips, suddenly feeling shy at the thought of explaining to Taeil his stakes in the situation.

“It’s more for her than for me, really,” he shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, “you know, save her from the embarrassment once the potion wears off.”

Mark hated the way Taeil’s gaze seemed to go right through him, as if he were prompting Mark to try again.

Mark felt his cheeks heat up, a small nervous giggle leaving him, “don’t look at me like that! Why are you looking at me like that?”

Taeil stifled a laugh, though his smile said everything, “ _why do you think_ I’m looking at you like this?”

Mark huffed, “I’m starting to understand why you and Johnny are a _thing_.”  
Taeil poorly hid his amusement, shaking his head, “you know, as a teacher I see a lot of things...” he trailed off, packing his things and picking his bag up to sling over his shoulder.

“What are you saying?”

Taeil smiled, shrugging in feigned nonchalance.

“I’m _saying_ , ” Taeil’s tone rose and dipped with a certain teasing hint to it, “that it’s not against any rule or law to be in love with a _certain Slytherin sixth-year,_ you know.”

Mark sputtered, his immediate reaction giving him away instantly. “I’m not in _love_ —”

“Alright, alright. I’ll get your ingredients, calm down,” Taeil chuckled, walking past Mark and beckoning for him to follow him.

“She’ll be yours in no time,” Taeil added. 

_The look on Mark’s face was priceless_.

Taeil had agreed to help Mark book a slot that night before curfew so he could brew the potion, so Mark figured he would inform Yuta of his plan before he got to work.

He wouldn’t have approached Yuta first under normal circumstances, the boy’s sultry gaze and intense, flirty demeanour always seeming to send Mark into a panic, but he figured in times like this he wasn’t really left with much of an option.

Yuta was currently sitting in the quidditch pitch reading his book while you sat behind him with your head resting on his back, your hands wrapped around Yuta’s torso and your eyes slowly drooping closed.

“Oh, _Mark_ ,” Yuta broke into a wide smile when he’d spotted the Gryffindor boy standing in front of him, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Mark heaved a deep sigh, Yuta’s words slipping past him when he’d noticed your position, strangely wishing he was Yuta in that moment. He knew it was a far cry for him to expect you to be okay with going back to how things were just because he gave you the antidote. _But still, he couldn’t help but hope_.

“I wanted to tell you that I'm making the uh...” Mark dropped his voice to a whisper, “ _antidote_ later, and I need you to help me give it to her,” he told Yuta a little too firmly.

However, Mark’s tone didn’t seem to affect Yuta, the older boy simply tilting his head at Mark with a smirk on his face, turning to look at you over his shoulder.

“ _Antidote_?” 

Yuta’s smile grew, Mark finding that it awfully resembled a Cheshire cat.

“Why?” Mark wondered momentarily how someone whose smile was so innocent could be so good at getting on his nerves.

Mark’s forehead creased in a frown, “ _why_? Dude, you’re messing with me, right?”

Yuta feigned nonchalance, his hand coming up to rest atop your clasped hands, rubbing his thumb on the back of your wrist soothingly as Mark watched in horror as you snuggled your head into Yuta’s back, Yuta having to hide the triumph in his smile from managing to annoy Mark.

“Me? Mess with you? _Never,_ ” Yuta’s eyes widened, his tone mocking. “What’s so urgent about it?” he prompted, making Mark groan.

_First Taeil, now Yuta, it seemed as if he would have to get through your entire group of friends just to get the stupid antidote to you_.

“ _Look_ at her,” Mark gestured to you with wide-eyes in his sheer desperation, “you have no idea how long this potion’s gonna last.”

Yuta narrowed his eyes at Mark, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as they parted, smirking ever-so-subtly.

“And? I thought we’d all agreed to wait it out,” Yuta shrugged. 

Mark’s gaze hardened, snapping back in annoyance, “you may have, _I didn’t_.”

Yuta raised his eyebrows, slightly impressed at witnessing Mark’s tenacity for things other than quidditch or schoolwork now, “you know, I never pinned you as the jealous type.”

Mark scoffed, “Stop joking around, Yuta. Seriously, I just wanna make sure she doesn’t do anything she regrets,” he insisted, lying through his teeth. Well, technically it wasn’t _completely_ a lie.

“You were never this convicted about it before, why now?” Yuta prodded further, knowing almost exactly how to push Mark’s buttons.

Mark didn’t even know why he was entertaining Yuta, something about the way he posed his questions to Mark making it harder for him to avoid them.

“‘Cause I want to be, okay?”

Yuta wanted to laugh, to tell Mark how you were almost equally as hopeless in your denial of feelings for him as well, but he figured he’d let the antidote move things along for him.

Letting out a resigned sigh, Yuta pat your hands gently, making you stir awake, “can’t say I didn’t enjoy having a study companion that basically _smothered_ me with affection the past few days but... I guess I’ll have to say goodbye.”

Turning to cast a blank look at Mark, as if he were analysing him, Mark struggled to keep his gaze firm, staring Yuta down as if he were looking death in the eye.

“Go, run along and be _potion-y_ now,” Yuta waved Mark off, and Mark hadn’t wasted another second, already turning to leave.

“Oh, but Mark?” Yuta called, making Mark turn to look back over his shoulder, “you might wanna be a little less obvious about your _big fat crush_.”

Mark sighed, _he figured he deserved that._

You wouldn’t have seen it, but the Mark that was in the potions room that night was desperate, not even to get the antidote to you, but for something much more serious.

Firstly, as he watched the potion turn from purple to red, he thought about how he’d spent the last few hours being annoyed at you for why you were so clumsy as to eat Yuta’s spiked chocolates. I mean, it was _Yuta_ , giving a gift after a quidditch match that he _lost_. _Shouldn’t you have been a little more distrusting?_

Secondly, as the potion turned to green it reminded him of how _extremely_ annoyed at Yuta he was, for having attained such a strong, perfect love potion that it made each second of watching you fawn over Yuta was driving him crazy. The thought almost made him overmix the potion.

And then, when he watched the green turn to orange, he contemplated on the very fact that it was driving him crazy at all. You were just a friend, _or acquaintance, even_ , just an over-achieving Slytherin who found it your life mission to compete with him.

Mark loosened his tie, the potions classroom starting to feel awfully stuffy.

But, you were the same Slytherin whom he befriended on his very first train here, who accepted him for who he was even before all the complications of stigma and student leader hierarchy came into play.

The same Slytherin who made Mark wonder if Slytherins were actually _that_ bad. I mean, he thought your smile was pretty cute, and so was the way your brow would knit in focus when you were performing spells, kind of. Maybe even the way that moment you shared on the viaduct reminded him of how you made him feel like he was on a long-awaited train-ride home.

And then, all it took was his waiting for the potion to turn from orange to pink for him to realise that he was absolutely a goner for you.

Which was what had ended you up in the Slytherin common room on a Friday night, staring at Yuta in absolute horror as the memories of your previous few days had flooded back to you, except this time you were looking at them with a _non-Yuta-obsessed_ perspective.

Yuta couldn’t help himself from the bout of laughter that washed over him, his mouth open wide as his laugh echoed around the common room, tilting his head back with the sheer force of his laughter.

“It wasn’t _that_ bad really,” Yuta spoke between his giggles, his hand coming up to wipe the tears from his eyes, “it was the first time in 6 years I heard you call me _pretty_. ”

You buried your head in your hands, turning around in the big cushioned chair you were seated on, hugging your knees to your chest for some semblance of comfort.

“I’m gonna go to sleep. Bye, forever,” you sighed, getting up from the chair, Yuta rubbing his bare arm as he leaned over so his face was right in front of yours.

“You know, just yesterday you would’ve been asking me to take a nap with you,” he giggled. 

“Shut up, Yuta.”

Yuta sighed deeply in satisfaction, “oh, how I missed that sound.”

===

“Why are we here again?” 

It wasn’t as if you wouldn’t have loved spending your Saturday evening exploring a toy shop but you would’ve much rather preferred if you weren’t already slightly tipsy and aching for a seat somewhere.

Yuta and you were previously at _The Leaky Cauldron_ celebrating the end of his examinations, the said boy having abruptly dragged you out of the pub when you were barely on your second glass just to bring you to the toy shop. Yuta’s tipsy mind was clearly impulsive (or more than usual). 

Yuta scoffed, “It’s _important_. Sicheng’s birthday is coming up and I wanted to get him this thing he’s been looking at for a while.”

You shot him a pointed look, “pretty sure Sicheng isn't an avid collector of _block sets_ ,” your tone making Yuta shield the box he was looking at from your view.

“Didn’t say I was looking for them _at this very second_ ,” he murmured, a slight pout on his lips as he made his way to the slightly more pink-decorated part of the shop, Yuta having to contain his excitement when he saw the love potions.

_You would’ve figured that he would’ve had enough of love potions by now._

Taking one in his hands, he’d brought it up under his nose, finding that you could smell the potion through the cap because of how strong it was. Covering the seal, Yuta had scuffled over to where you stood looking at the muggle magic sets, startling you with his sudden call for your name.

“What?” you turned, annoyed at his sudden outburst, seeing him shove something he was holding just under your nose.

“Smell it, smell it,” he shoved it closer, “guess the scent.”

You frowned, wondering if he was trying to shove it up your nose, but you complied anyway, taking a whiff of it and finding the smell awfully familiar.

“It’s really familiar, is it supposed to be just one scent? I’m getting like...” you took another sniff, “a mix of things...” you trailed off, seeing Yuta’s eyebrows raise, his smile showing that he seemed to be enjoying this a little too much.

“Is that so?”

You nodded, humming thoughtfully as you took another whiff, “it smells like... rain? And like...the lake?” you pursed your lips, “I don’t know why but it kind of smells like baby powder, like you know, fabric softener?”

Yuta burst into a fit of giggles, making you even more curious as to what the true identity of what he was holding was.

“What’s so funny?” you huffed, turning your gaze away from the fake magic wand you were holding, turning to see Yuta open his hand up, showing you what he was holding.

“It’s a love potion, idiot.” 

Your eyes widened, immediately regretting your words as Yuta walked off to return the small vial back to its original place, turning back to you with a shrug, walking past you to beckon you to follow him out of the shop.

Hugging your arms closer to yourself, you glanced up at the sky, noticing that the clouds were getting darker, “hey, are you sure you wanna go back to the pub? It looks like it’s gonna rain.”

Yuta waved you off, “It’s fine, we can just run back if anything happens,” he shrugged, “anyway, now that I’m thinking about it, it makes sense for you to be smelling that, you know, since love potions are supposed to smell like what you think smells nice.”

You frowned at him, “that’s weird, I never knew I liked the smell of _fabric softener_ so much. It doesn’t even smell like _my_ fabric softener,” you hummed, stepping into the pub with a sigh, the warmth of the inside soothing you and putting you in a relaxed mode almost instantly.

“Might wanna think more about that little detail,” Yuta pointed out, stretching a hand out behind him for you to take.

Walking closely behind Yuta, you weaved through the crowd to get to a booth near the window of the pub, your eyes widening when you had spotted Taeil seated there with Taeyong and Sicheng.

Greeting them quickly, you’d slid into the booth next to Taeil, Yuta leaving to get his and your drinks.

Turning to face Taeil, you tried not to laugh at the way a flushed-faced Taeyong was leaning against him, his eyes hooded and tired behind his thick-rimmed glasses.

“Is he okay?”

Taeil sighed, “poor boy insisted on coming to celebrate but kind of forgot he was a lightweight.” Sicheng rested his arm on Taeyong’s shoulder casually, the Hufflepuff’s intoxicated state doing nothing to faze him.

“When did you guys get here?” you asked, relaxing into the cushion of the booth, almost letting your eyes flutter closed with how happy you were to be finally sitting down.

“We’re a few drinks in, if that’s any indicator. Mark’s already flushed,” Sicheng snickered.

“Mark?” you frowned, wondering when Yuta had gotten so chummy with Mark for even Sicheng to know him.

Taeil’s tongue peeked out from his lips slightly, an almost teasing smile on his lips, “yeah, hope you don’t mind that we invited him.”

Your eyes widened, having to stop yourself before you were too quick to reassure him.

“Oh... no, yeah,” you fumbled for the right words, stopping yourself when you’d caught sight of the knowing look Sicheng was giving you.

Leaning closer, he lowered his voice to a whisper.

“Yuta told me about you guys’ weird _love-hate_ thing going on,” he gave you a slow nod as if to show you he understood, which somehow only made you feel even more helpless.

Ignoring Sicheng’s statement, you brushed it aside, your gaze scanning the inside of the pub to land on anyone with your brother’s height (finding the rest of them would be a lot easier after that).

“Where um... where are they?” you blurted, hoping it would distract Sicheng from tormenting you in his weird unsuspecting way. Sicheng gestured with his head behind you, and you followed his gaze to spot Johnny, Yuta and Mark heading towards your table, Mark busy giggling at something Johnny said.

“Scooch over,” Johnny gestured, making you get out of your seat to let him sit next to Taeil. You figured he should thank you for being a kind sibling, though you were wondering if that was a very good decision when you’d ended up having to awkwardly squeeze next to Mark.

Giving him a small nod in greeting, you picked your drink up when he’d returned the nod, the rosy tint on his cheeks as he gave you a small smile making your head spin.

“Where’d you guys go just now?” Johnny asked, making Yuta shrug casually as you took a sip of your drink, wondering if Yuta had added extra firewhisky into it with how strong the flavour was.

“We went to the toy shop,” Yuta gestured out the window.

“Toy shop? You should’ve told me sooner, I wanted to see if they had that toy I wanted.” Sicheng pouted, feigning annoyance towards Yuta.

“Toy shop? Why?” Mark asked, earning a glare from Yuta, who didn’t want to ruin his surprise for Sicheng.

“Oh, nothing. Y/N just wanted to look around,” Yuta shrugged, making you have to consciously hold back a snort, nodding along with his lie.

Sicheng frowned, clearly sulky at the fact that Yuta had gone without him, though his sadness was short lived, Yuta reaching a hand over to interlock his fingers with Sicheng reassuringly.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t there anyway, all they had were love potions and boring non-magic magic kits,” Yuta assured, almost heaving a sigh of relief when Sicheng’s eyebrows raised in interest.

“Speaking of which, I heard about your little _incident_ ,” Sicheng made no effort to hide his smile, looking at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. _Not again, Sicheng._

You’d hoped the lighting in the bar would hide the flush on your cheeks, the room feeling awfully hot suddenly, turning to look out of the window, missing the way Mark’s eyes had widened, his hand coming up to pull at the collar of his hoodie.

“Oh, would you look at that, it’s raining,” you marvelled, taking a long sip of your _butterbeer_ , hearing Johnny let out a giggle.

“Uh-huh, it is,” he drawled, already almost done with his beer, sinking down in his seat to lean his head on Taeil’s shoulder, doing everything to lessen their size difference.

“You should’ve seen it, never in my 6 years of knowing her have I ever seen anything like that,” Yuta chuckled, managing to stir a laugh from Taeyong, who sat up in his seat.

Mark reminded himself that it was a potion-induced infatuation he witnessed. _There was no reason for him to be getting jealous._

“Should’ve seen Mark too, he wasn’t any better—” Mark let out a loud laugh, drowning out the rest of Taeyong’s sentence as you raised an eyebrow curiously at him.

_Why was Mark involved?_

You’d wanted to bury yourself beneath the table, embarrassment kicking in as you realised Mark would’ve probably witnessed everything you’d done (or tried to do) to Yuta within those few days.

Casting a glance at him, you noticed he was already looking at you, looking away quickly as he fixed his gaze on the inside of his glass, inspecting his drink in feigned concentration.

“Did you make the love potion?” Sicheng asked, earning a shake of the head from Yuta.

“No, I didn't. I bought it from this shop in _diagon alley_ ,” Yuta told him, pointing outside, “I didn’t know it was gonna be _that_ strong, though.”

Mark couldn’t help himself from scoffing, “ _clearly_.”

“Oh, then, did you buy the antidote from there too?” You asked, trying to recall if you’d seen any antidotes for sale just now, not having expected the boys to cast each other knowing looks, bursting out into laughter.

“No, they don’t sell antidotes.” Yuta pursed his lips, poorly stifling his smile.

You couldn’t help yourself from uttering a confused hum, figuring the drinks you had beforehand were seeming to fuel your lack of a filter, accompanied with a burst of confidence.

“They don’t? Where’d you get the one you gave me, then?”

Taeil watched the scene with an amused smile on his face while Johnny beside him was losing it, clutching his belly as he laughed soundlessly.

“Maybe you should ask Mark,” he blurted through giggles.

Turning to Mark, you gave him an expectant look, not having been prepared to hear him say what he did.

“I made it.”

Mark’s leg had started to bounce, his hands clasped on his lap as he bit the inside of his cheek.

You’d wracked your brain for possible things he was indebted to you for, coming up short, “y _ou?_ What-why?”

Yuta eyed Mark intensely, gesturing outside with his head when Mark had met his gaze, and Mark knew now was his chance. There was no more ‘waiting for the perfect time’ like how he did with your scarf. This was his chance, and he didn’t think he would be able to wait any longer if he didn’t take it now.

“Can we uh... not do this here?” Mark blurted, wincing at his poor choice of words.

Your eyes widened, along with Sicheng, the both of you unsure what he meant by his words.

“Oh... okay, sorry for bringing it up then—”

“No, I mean like,” Mark sighed, “can we like... _talk outside_?” his voice lowered to a murmur, speaking through gritted teeth.

Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape in realisation, nodding wordlessly as Mark had stood up, already on his resolute path towards the exit of the pub.

Following him to one of the benches outside the pub, glad that the rain had forced everyone into the pub, leaving just the both of you alone, the drizzle softly acting as a filler for the silence that had fallen between you two.

Strangely, this time, as you met this Mark who wasn’t casting you glares and scoffing at you for once, this Mark who wasn’t in his school uniform and looked too comfortable in his oversized hoodie and pyjama pants (which was an awfully _Mark_ thing to wear out of school). 

You didn’t sense any animosity between the both of you, just a silence that was waiting patiently to be broken.

“We’re far enough that they won’t be able to listen in,” Mark told you as if that was supposed to reassure you.

Taking a deep breath, you’d only realised then that you’d brought your glass out together with you, taking a sip of liquid courage (your drink, not the potion) before exhaling deeply, “why did you make the potion?”

Mark brought a hand up to tug his hood over his head, picking at a loose thread on his pyjama pants.

“I uh,” Mark let out a small giggle, “I guess... I uh... I don’t know.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “what do you mean you ‘ _don’t know_ ’? You wouldn’t go through the trouble of brewing an antidote as _troublesome_ as that one for someone you _don’t_ like for reasons you _don’t_ know—”

“I don’t _not_ like you,” he blurted, immediately regretting his words, looking away and wincing.

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe him, not knowing what you would’ve done if you did, the sheer hope inside of you that this Mark you were talking to now was even remotely close to feeling whatever confusing feelings you were feeling about him was overpowering.

“What?” was all you could muster, earning a small huff of laughter from him, a shy smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, there’s really...so many places I could start with but I don’t know if it’s right for me to be telling you now,” he murmured.

“Would you rather me like...shorten it, instead?” he turned to look at you, your breath hitching as he met your gaze, not used to the determination you were seeing in his eyes. The look being a sheer contrast from the softness of the dusty pink on his cheeks and the way his lips were _so_ red.

You nodded wordlessly.

“I couldn’t stand seeing you act like that with Yuta.” 

Mark’s adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his throat almost feeling constricted with how anxious he was.

Your eyes widened, scoffing. 

“It never bothered you before,” you mumbled, the both of you still acting as if this was still about your rivalry when you knew deep down you were both _way_ past that already.

Mark laughed, shaking his head, pursing his lips, “it did. You just never noticed.”

It was as if with every word he spoke, you were feeling the tension thicken, the way your heart had started to pick up speed, especially with the way he was looking at you, and the way your heart was just _begging_ you to indulge yourself. _Just this once._

“I thought that I was doing the right thing by distancing myself from you,” he began, his eyes darting to your hands briefly, watching how you were fiddling with the glass anxiously, looking back at your face before he continued, “but then, all these _things_ started happening and I just kind of,” he stopped himself mid-speech, inhaling deeply.

“Missed you,” his voice came out as just a little more than a whisper.

Mark wanted to run away in embarrassment at how vulnerable he sounded, figuring he shouldn’t disappoint the Gryffindor in him and continue to stand firm (even if his voice wasn’t).

You weren’t sure if you were breathing, you couldn’t even pay attention to that.

“What,” you swallowed, “...what kind of _things_?”

“That, you know, that night you helped me undo the confusion charm.”

Your eyes widened, remembering what Johnny and Yuta had told you about it that day at the dorm, “sorry, by the way, about Johnny using the truth serum on you for that night,” you told him.

What you hadn’t expected, though, was the look of confusion you’d received from him in response, “ _truth serum?_ They’ve been banned by the ministry for ages,” he told you slowly, making your eyes widen, having completely forgotten about that.

_No wonder Donghyuck had called you hopeless._

“Oh,” you muttered, not being able to help yourself from laughing as well when Mark had burst into a fit of giggles, his nose scrunching up cutely as he leaned back in his seat, leaning against the table of the bench.

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“Is _the_ Y/N actually _embarrassed_?” Mark teased, making you huff, making as if to stand up. 

“I’m not having this conversation with you, I’m gonna get a refil—”

In what seemed like mere moments, Mark had grabbed you by the forearm, pulling you back gently onto your seat as his other hand removed his wand from his pocket, pointing it at your cup wordlessly.

“Stay here. I wasn’t finished.”

You watched in awe as your cup had started to refill itself, a shiver running down your spine at the sheer ease he’d performed the spell.

“I know I’ve been a, you know, a dick to you,” he huffed at his own expense, “but, all you have to do is tell me if you want me to stop. I’ll respect what you want, if you want me to leave you alone I'll leave you alone. If you still hate me, it’s okay—”

“Shut up, Mark,” you blurted, not ready for whatever emotional ramble he was about to embark on, catching him off guard as he’d made known in the slight lift of his eyebrow.

“Is it a sibling thing?” a small smile played at his lips, “you and Johnny sure like telling me to shut up,” he huffed.

Once again, Mark had no idea what he was compelled by, but he’d dared himself to reach over, smoothing down your hair that had gotten messed up by the wind, and your breath hitched in realisation. 

There it was, you had recognized that distinct smell almost immediately.

_His fabric softener._

_You were done for, for sure_. But obviously, you didn’t mind one bit. _Especially_ because it was Mark.

Mark’s throat had suddenly felt dry, his fist clenching unconsciously next to your head as he withdrew it quickly, your fight or flight instincts kicking in as your brain struggled to think of an appropriate course of action from here, your self-preservation instinct running on overdrive.

“I uh... I don’t really want this drink anymore, maybe I should go give it to Yuta—”

Mark’s nose scrunched up in distaste, wordlessly taking the glass from your hands, “guess you won’t mind if I drink it then, right?” he’d taken a big sip of the drink, setting it down beside the both of you on the table, though his gaze still had that determination in them.

“Are you drunk?” he murmured, your heart picking up speed again as you’d sworn he’d gotten closer to you.

You shook your head, “sober as a judge,” you huffed.

Mark smirked, a small smile on his lips, “I don’t know what that means, but I’m taking that as a no.”

You smiled, you would’ve shook your head if you weren’t so scared of this moment coming to an end, “yes, Mark. It means I’m not drunk.”

You’d felt Mark’s hand move to grasp your hand gently, the tension of the _almost-touch_ of your lips driving you insane.

“Then whatever’s about to happen, you won’t regret it, will you?” he asked, leaning even closer to you, his head tilting slightly.

You couldn’t help yourself, “maybe.”

Mark scoffed, though you didn’t miss the small giggle that escaped him, “guess I gotta make it good then.”

Without another word, he’d brought a hand up to grasp the nape of your neck, bringing your head just that slightest bit closer to yours to press his lips against yours. 

Kissing him back, you’d sighed at the warmth he exuded, your hand coming up and accidentally knocking his hood off of his head, the hand you’d rest gently against his neck making him sigh into the kiss.

_No love potion would’ve let you feel what you were feeling now._

Turning your body slightly, he’d shielded you from view, his other hand coming up to comb through your hair before coming to rest at the base of your neck, giving him more control over the kiss.

You didn’t care that the wind was blowing the rain onto your clothes, all you could focus on was the way you’d wanted to melt completely into Mark’s touch, the comfort of the moment washing over you as he pulled you closer to him, almost as if asking you to lean your weight on him, letting out a small hum as if to tell you it was more than okay with him.

Pulling away breathless, you’d spent a few moments catching your breath, the whole scene playing out in your head again as he looked at you with his pupils blown and his chest heaving. You swore you heard him curse under his breath.

And just like that, the moment was over. 

You hadn’t even noticed Yuta coming out to interrupt the both of you, Johnny and Taeil insisting that it was time for Mark to go home, the both of you smiling like idiots as Yuta and Sicheng dragged you (and a far too giddy Taeyong) back to the school.

“I’ll see you tomorrow! Same place as always!” Mark called out before Johnny could pull him forward, Johnny casting you a look of feigned disapproval.

_Same place as always_. You liked the sound of that.

===

Contrary to what you’d expected, you figured Mark would’ve at least lived up to the whole idea of Gryffindors being _chivalrous_ by at least defining your relationship, because you definitely were getting tired of Yuta always referring to him as your boyfriend when even you couldn’t feel like you had a right to call him that yet.

Sitting anxiously at the Slytherin section of the spectators stand, you watched the match intently as the Gryffindor and Slytherin final quidditch match had played out in front of you.

“I didn’t remember your boyfriend’s flying skills to be so bad,” Donghyuck nudged you, making you frown, taking your attention away from Gryffindor’s seeker to find Mark in the sea of red and green.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you muttered belatedly, your gaze landing on his broom, watching as it seemed to move randomly, almost, in a manner that seemed out of his control.

Knowing this couldn’t have been just _anyone’s_ doing, you narrowed your eyes to search the crowd in front of you, landing on the same Slytherin boys from your batch that had _loved_ to bother Mark, seeing one of them moving their hands in a manner that was in line with Mark’s flying.

“If Mark asks, I didn’t do it,” you sighed. Practically being able to hear Mark’s voice in your head saying ‘ _15 points if you cast spells unsupervised_ ’’.

“Didn’t do what?” Donghyuck frowned, following your gaze as you took out your wand discreetly, whispering a spell under your breath, slipping your wand back into your robe calmly as Donghyuck watched in horror as the boy in question had almost immediately started retching up slugs, his friends dragging him out of the venue in a panic.

“Problem solved,” you smiled, turning your attention back to the game, seeing Mark visibly relax when his broom had stopped being possessed.

Donghyuck shook his head, though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly impressed behind his fear, “remind me never to mess with Mark ever again.”

After the game, you’d met Yuta outside the stadium who said that Mark had asked if you would meet him in the Gryffindor tent. Complying, (more than a little willingly), a part of you couldn’t help but hope that this was the time where he would finally ask you to be with him, to give you a dramatic confession, telling you the typical ‘ _I was stupid I’m sorry ill make it up to you_ ’ bullshit you knew he thought you would want to hear.

But, you should’ve known Mark better.

Walking into the tent, you’d spotted Mark in his quidditch uniform, his protective gear shoved into his duffel bag, turning around to look at you with a smile.

“Hey, I was just heading out,” he breathed, the smile lingering on his face. A tell-tale sign that he was still in his post-victory daze.

You raised an eyebrow, “Yuta told me you were looking for me,” you murmured.

His eyes widened in realisation, turning to take something from his bag, “right, I wanted to uh...give you this.”

He held out his hand in a fist, your delayed reaction making him roll his eyes with a laugh, reaching over to take your hand, holding your palm open for him to empty his hand’s contents into yours.

You’d wanted to laugh, sitting in your hand was a little acrylic keychain of the same bubble-blowing spongebob that you’d given to him in your first-year. Except, this time, you were seeing it in a new light. It seemed almost freshly painted, with a certain shine to it. Not to mention how the acrylic looked as good as new.

“I uh... fixed it,” he smiled proudly at you, “a little late, but better late than never, right?” he grinned.

_Maybe this was Mark’s sweet for you to keep you from crying._

You nodded. 

“Thanks,” you awaited for him to continue, looking at him expectantly.

Mark rocked back on his heels, his mouth pulling into a rectangle shape as he struggled to find the last bit of confidence in him to tell you what he wanted to say.

“That’s it? You didn’t call me here because you wanted to tell me something?... or something?” you prompted, and Mark was thankful for the prompt, of course, he just needed to calm down before his heart was all he could hear.

Wincing, Mark looked almost pained, inhaling deeply.

“You know it's 20 points for fighting with students, right?” he blurted.

Your lips parted in shock, looking as Mark as though in a silent question if he was joking.

“How did you—”

“I knew it was you,” he grinned, “the moment my broom stopped going crazy. I just had a feeling—”

You opened and closed your mouth, gripping the keychain in your hand tighter as you scoffed, for lack of a better response, “okay, if that’s all you came to tell me i’ll just go—”

“Wait! Wait, sorry I was stalling,” he took a step forward, grabbing you by your free hand, searching your expression for a sign that he could proceed.

Once he deemed it alright, Mark nodded resolutely, “I wanted to ask you if we could like... you know, _start over_. ”

Your eyebrows raised, prompting him to continue.

“Because, I really uh...” he swallowed, his demeanour a stark contrast from how he was just seconds ago on the quidditch pitch, “I really like you.”

“Then we shouldn’t start over,” you told him, wanting to giggle at the sheer shock that had painted over his features.

“Let’s continue from where we’re at. I want to know more about this Mark in front of me now. I don’t want to start over,” you continued.

With your words alone, and the small smile that you gave him, Mark’s heart swelled up. This Mark, awkward, yet confident. Insecure, yet brave. This mark you were meeting for what felt like the first time but yet felt so familiar, you were more than happy with.

Mark’s smile widened, nodding at you.

“I’m an idiot for not giving you the antidote any sooner.”


End file.
